


Betting Games

by poorly_animated



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Decapitation, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Homophobic Language, Idiots in Love, Knifeplay, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Injuries, Miscommunication, Murder, Overhearing Sex, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smoking, Torture, Under-negotiated Kink, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27909010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poorly_animated/pseuds/poorly_animated
Summary: Phinks told Shalnark he would ask Feitan to kiss him if he won their next bet, but he never expected he'd actually win. Now everyone in the Phantom Troupe knows about his feelings for Feitan--except, of course, Feitan, who has convinced himself that Phinks is in love with Shalnark. All of this bumbling might get in the way of being exemplary bandits!
Relationships: Feitan/Phinks (Hunter X Hunter), Machi/Pakunoda, Uvogin | Ubogin/Shalnark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 99





	1. Regular Wager

**Author's Note:**

> I'll include appropriate tags for each chapter--these two sure get up to some criminal hijinks! Many thanks to Cass and Gyl for their wonderful art and commitment to making me finish this.

“HA! Oh, my god, I actually won!” Phinks crowed, dropping his hands to his knees. He glanced over his shoulder at his scowling companion, grinning brightly at his obvious displeasure. 

“Shut up.” Feitan’s hands were deep in his pockets, twisting the fabric of his cloak. He should’ve known better than to take the alley—a small gang had added just enough of a delay that Phinks had beaten him to the hideout, leaping through the doorframe as Feitan rounded the corner. Now the tall blonde could ask for anything he wanted and it would be up to Feitan to get it for him. Every race had the same wager: winner sets a demand, and the loser has to meet it before they can request another contest. These rules had been working well for Feitan. He’d won their first four races, all in a row, demanding increasingly obscure trophies just to see how much Phinks was willing to do for him. After the last request—a specific numbered print from an underrepresented renaissance artist who’d focused on torture devices—Feitan had assumed that Phinks would tire of the game and devise a new one. He’d run out of things to pretend to want. If he’d won this time, he wouldn’t have known what to ask for, except for the one thing he was sure Phinks wouldn’t give him. But Phinks had secured the print within a week, proudly setting it down beside Feitan’s pillow early one morning and ruffling his hair. And now he’d won, and Feitan was not looking forward to tracking anything down.

Phinks unzipped his track jacket as he stood, trying to figure out where to go from here. He'd never anticipated winning the race. As for what he wanted, well, the worst-case scenario was Feitan never speaking to him again. Second-worst was Feitan killing him on the spot. He figured he might as well test the waters.

“Hmmmmm,” he mused, “what should I have you get? Any ideas?” 

Feitan shrugged. “Kick in the ass,” he suggested blithely. He adopted a bored expression and inspected his nails.

“Interesting, but no. I’m thinking... maybe a scarab necklace, fresh out of a tomb? Or, wait, maybe I want some new sneakers, these ones are getting pretty beat up.”

“Just decide,” Feitan snapped.

“I can think of something you could give me right now,” Phinks said quietly. His cheeks burned as his friend stared at him, a small frown knitting his brows together. 

“What?”

“Ummmm... Never mind,” the blonde mumbled. He turned away, fumbling for a cigarette. Shalnark’s loud laugh echoed down the hallway and he blushed harder, remembering what the manipulator had said when he’d awkwardly shared his idea for the off chance he actually won one of their bets. “My god, that’s gay,” he’d teased, “and bolder than I’d expect from you. It’s hard to say if it’ll work, but I definitely want to see you try.” Phinks swallowed hard and took another drag of his cigarette. Feitan was still frowning at him in confusion. “I’ll... can I think about it a bit?”

“Sure,” Feitan shrugged, “and now, drink?”

Phinks grinned again. “Yeah, definitely.”

——————————

An hour later, Phinks was properly buzzed. He’d lost repeatedly at cards, unable to hold a poker face good enough to convince Machi or Shalnark. He drifted to another corner and flopped down on a collapsing couch across from Chrollo and Feitan. The pair was deep in an intense, hushed discussion, barely giving him a glance as he sat down. A big hand came down on his head and he looked up, smiling lazily at Franklin above him. 

“Let’s chat, Phinks.”

The blonde frowned. “Sure, man.”

They stood by the window and smoked, Phinks anxiously fiddling with his lighter as the older man took torturously slow drags. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Feitan. Chrollo placed a hand on his shoulder and laughed softly, the gentle sound disappearing into a metallic crunch as Phinks crushed his empty beer can. He started towards the cooler but Franklin’s hand landed on his shoulder again.

“You’ve had enough for now.”

“What’s it to—why do you wanna talk to me, anyways, huh?”

“Don’t get ahead of me. And stop staring.”

Phinks went bright red, directing his gaze to the floor. “Oh, that,” he mumbled. 

Franklin nodded slowly. “Don’t do anything rash. The spider comes first. We don’t need to lose anyone to interpersonal differences.” He took a swig of his beer, glancing over at Feitan and Chrollo. “And stop worrying about that. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“It’s written all over your face. You’re too jealous for your own good.”

“And what do you suggest?” Phinks snapped. He stomped his cigarette out and lit another one, scowling as he watched Shalnark press a quick kiss to Uvogin’s forehead when he thought nobody was looking. How had they figured it out? 

“I suggest you calm down. And don’t make it about the bet, either. Just be honest.”

Phinks glared at him, feeling the color rise in his cheeks again. “How do you know about the bet?”

“Everyone knows,” Franklin shrugged, “except Feitan, I guess. You know you can’t trust Shal.” 

“Oh,” Phinks mumbled. How absolutely mortifying. He looked around the room, watching his friends carefully. Shalnark winked at him. Pakunoda gave him a knowing smile over Machi’s head and he looked away, his stomach churning. “But... do you think it would work?” 

Franklin sighed, leaning back against the wall. His eyes followed Feitan’s hands excitedly describing something to the boss and he gave himself a moment to really consider the possibility: would he? He shrugged. “I can’t say. You know him better than any of us. You could always ask Paku, though I think you know how I feel about that approach.”

“Right. No, I... I don’t think that would be fair.” 

“Exactly.”

Phinks grunted and shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling a bit dizzy. His head spun with intoxication. He started to walk away but frowned, turning back to his older friend. “You mean even Kortopi knows?” 

Franklin chuckled. “Yeah. And Bono’s been writing a particularly mean song about you.” 

“Oh, god,” Phinks groaned, “Now I’m definitely getting another drink.” He wandered away, trying to keep his eyes on the floor. Shalnark appeared in front of him. The bastard had the audacity to be grinning. “What the fuck do you want, Shal?”

“Well?” Shalnark’s voice was unbearably chipper, striking Phinks’ ears like nails on a chalkboard. “Didja do it? Or didja wimp out?”

“Fuck you, man.”

“Awww, don’t be like that, Phinks! I’m sorry you chickened out. What did you ask for instead?” Shal threw a congenial arm around his shoulders, but Phinks shrugged him off, burning with anger.

“Why the fuck did you tell everyone?! You’re such a dick, dude. You could’ve at least waited for me to embarrass myself on my own, we all know it’s not gonna happen.” Phinks opened a beer and chugged it, burping loudly. The can clattered on the ground as he reached for another. 

His friend wrinkled his nose. “You’re drunk. And I only told Uvo. Well, and Paku asked. Oh, and I guess I mentioned it to Franklin—well, anyways, if you’re not doing it, it doesn’t matter, right?” He beamed at Phinks, completely unapologetic, and pulled out his phone, turning to snap a quick picture of Nobunaga and Uvogin yelling at each other. “Perfect,” he giggled to himself. 

“Fuck off, Shal. I didn’t want everyone knowing. Now I’m the butt of the joke again, jackass.” 

“You always are,” Shalnark teased. He pecked Phinks on the cheek and hopped away before he could react, traipsing over to loudly interject himself into Nobu and Uvo’s argument. Everything always seemed incredibly easy for him. He practically radiated positivity and raw sexual energy, able to pick and choose whoever he felt a fleeting interest in. Phinks scoffed and clenched his fists in his pockets. Franklin was right. He should’ve known better.

On the couch, Chrollo smiled beatifically at Feitan, gently patting his thin shoulder. “By the way, I think you’ll find that you are much closer to your heart’s desire thank you think,” he murmured. 

Feitan frowned at the boss’s outstretched arm. “My heart? Heart cannot want. Is muscle.” 

“It’s a figure of speech, Feitan. Your heart is the part of you that wants irrationally—not just in the way that we want rare books and fine gems, but in the way we want, for example, everyone in this room to live, even if we don’t always get along. And I believe you know the feeling and desire I am referencing.” Chrollo tilted his head to the side, giving a tiny nod in the direction of the beer cooler without breaking eye contact with his friend. He grinned at the flash of surprise that briefly widened his narrow eyes. “Yes, that.”

Feitan scowled and shrugged Chrollo’s hand away, sinking lower into the high neck of his robe. “Don’t know what you say,” he muttered. His eyes darted towards Phinks for a split second before settling pointedly on the floor. “Nothing I want here.” 

Chrollo laughed, a gentle, effervescent sound that made a pale pink burn the edges of Feitan’s ears. “Okay, Fei, if you say so.” He stood up, stretching his long limbs into the cool evening air before tucking his hands into his pockets. He watched Phinks wiping the cheek that Shalnark had kissed and sighed. “Just so you know, he feels the same,” he tossed over his shoulder. He drifted away without waiting for his friend’s reaction. 

Feitan blinked. He swallowed the instinct to argue, chasing it with the remnants of his beer. He’d only had a few drinks but he was suddenly feeling  _ very _ drunk, his head swimming with the implications of everything Chrollo said. The room seemed to be shrinking around him as he glanced over at Phinks again. The tall blonde was angry about something, kicking a few loose pieces of rubble around as he grumbled to himself. Feitan smiled under his cowl. He took to his feet and started towards him, noticing a bit too late that his legs weren’t as steady as expected. He tripped on the hem of his cloak and went down with a soft thud, giggling to himself. Phinks materialized next to him instantly. 

“You good, Fei?”

“Fine, baichi.” Feitan ignored the outstretched hand and stood up, clumsily brushing the dust away. “Decide yet?”

Phinks chuckled nervously as the blush spread across his cheeks again. He stretched his arms behind his back, trying to look casual. “Nah, I’m still thinking. I want, uhhh... There’s gotta be a challenge, you know?”

“Mmm.” Feitan tilted his head thoughtfully as he gazed up at his friend. He was struck by how pink his cheeks were, the fuzziness in his mind slipping the word “cute” into focus. He wasn’t sure he remembered the word correctly, though, so he decided to keep it to himself. “You said something now before. What?” 

“I, uh, well, it’s nothing, yeah,” Phinks stammered. He took a step back, overwhelmed by the uncharacteristic gentleness softening Feitan’s eyes. A soft snicker to his left drew his attention and he whipped around to glare at Shalnark, turning just in time to see the blonde snapping a picture of him and Feitan’s conversation. “Fuck, what is wrong with me?”

Feitan frowned, looking between Shalnark and Phinks in confusion. “What?”

“Shal’s just, he’s just such a dick, you know? I’m so tired of his bullshit,” Phinks grumbled. He crossed his arms angrily and huffed. “Fucking asshole thinks he’s so damn cute.” 

“Oh,” Feitan said meekly. Now he really wasn’t sure what cute meant, but something about the way Phinks said it made his stomach drop. Was Shalnark cute? Feitan narrowed his eyes at the manipulator’s back, trying to figure it out. His face was nice, perhaps, and he could be quite interesting to talk to. Feitan had heard Uvogin describe Shal as cute a handful of times—it was pretty much the only place he’d heard the word—but he couldn’t tell if Phinks meant it in the same way. He cocked his head inquisitively. The pair had been talking quite a lot recently, Phinks pulling Shalnark aside into hushed conversations that always seemed to make the manipulator laugh. Feitan frowned. 

“And Uvo totally eggs him on, I mean, I don’t know who they think they’re fooling, saying that they’re not together. It’s annoying as hell. They’d probably be cute if they weren’t so damn obnoxious and, and, I dunno, man,” Phinks was rambling, still glaring at Shalnark as he watched the blonde sprawl on the floor with his head in Uvogin’s lap. “Like, just be open about it, we’re all happy for them, right?” 

Feitan blinked up at Phinks as if hearing his voice for the first time. “What?” He followed his gaze to Shal’s head in Uvo’s lap and sighed quietly, resigning himself to the idea that Phinks harbored secret feelings for the manipulator. “Oh, yes, them... yes.” He stared at the floor for a moment. 

“Phinks, what is cute?”

“Oh!” Phinks went red again, shoving his hands into his pockets in an attempt to stop fidgeting. He searched his hazy mind for an answer that wasn’t “your smile” or “how tiny you are” or “the way you laugh.” His mouth felt like it was full of sand. “It’s a word,” he said stupidly. 

Feitan glared at him. “Don’t be asshole.” 

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean—it’s just, uh, like when you see a baby animal, you know? That’s cute. Or, like... what Shal’s doing right now is pretty cute, I guess, if—if you’re into that kind of thing,” Phinks stammered. Feitan’s small frown darkened as he looked at Shalnark again. “Um,” Phinks continued, “People generally think stuff is cute if it’s nice to look at, but like, makes you wanna squeeze it, a little bit, I think? Like Kortopi! Kortopi is so cute. And, uh, people can also use it, like... romantically, I guess, like, if you think a person is good-looking you might also say that they’re cute.” 

“Kortopi and Shalnark and baby animal?” Feitan inquired. He shook his head slowly. “Good-looking or... squeeze?” 

“Heh, uh, definitely just wanna give Kortopi a big ol’ hug, y’know, and I’m... well, I was kinda being sarcastic about Shal acting like he’s cute, but I do think it seems cute to put your head in someone’s lap if... if you like them,” Phinks mumbled. He took out a cigarette and lit it with shaking hands, feeling quite proud that he’d managed to avoid telling Feitan he was cute. He couldn’t imagine the small interrogator would appreciate such a descriptor. 

“Hmmmmm.” It wasn’t the answer Feitan was looking for, but it wasn’t entirely terrible. At least Phinks hadn’t said outright that he found Shalnark attractive. He thought about what Chrollo had said again and smirked under his collar. This might be a good way to test that theory. He looked up at Phinks again, casually adjusting his neckline to reveal more of his face. “Is Feitan cute?”

Phinks choked. The cigarette fell from his mouth with a sputtering gasp, landing a circular burn in the middle of his shoe. He hopped up with a pained yelp and slipped, crashing to the floor. Heads turned towards him. Shalnark laughed loudly, taking a few pictures and drawing even more attention. Phinks felt like his face was on fire. He looked around wildly, taking in Nobunaga and Uvogin’s snickering, Pakunoda’s smile as Machi whispered to her, Franklin’s exhausted eye roll. Even Chrollo’s gentle nod seemed to mock him. His head spun. Feitan frowned down at him, ducking back under his collar. He couldn’t seem to make himself speak.

“Baichi, you okay?”

“Mmmmhmm! Yup! Yeah! I’m fine!” Phinks rubbed his shoe, too distracted to care that it had burned. “I... I’m gonna stay right here,” he said as casually as he could.

Feitan crouched next to him and jabbed a cold finger into one of his bright pink cheeks. “You look stupid. But I sit too.” He giggled lightly, feeling warm from the beer buzzing in his veins. Maybe Phinks didn’t find him cute, but he certainly felt his reaction suited the word. “We both fall. Stupid together.” He picked up the fallen cigarette and placed it back in his friend’s mouth, noticing the intriguing way his breath hitched when his fingers met his lips. 

Phinks stared at Feitan in shock, hardly registering anything beyond his gleeful eyes. The cigarette slipped from his mouth again as he slowly reached his hand to feel where Feitan had touched him. Feitan giggled, taking the cigarette in his own mouth. He cocked his head at Phinks and sat back, still giggling. 

“Well? Light me, Phinks! If you not smoke, I will.” 

“Oh,” Phinks croaked. He fumbled for his lighter and brought it to Feitan’s face, feeling it start to slide in his sweaty palms. The smaller man leaned into the flame and then pulled back, exhaling a thin line of smoke unbearably slowly. Phinks choked back a panicked sound and tugged the box out again, desperate to have something to do. As soon as the cigarette was in his mouth, however, a cold hand touched his cheek and pulled it down. Phinks barely kept his cigarette in place as Feitan pressed the lit end of his own against it, his long eyelashes lowered in concentration. He sat back and grinned. Phinks coughed awkwardly, glancing around to see if anyone had seen that, if anyone else could confirm that had just happened to him. Nobody was looking. He felt like he was standing outside of his body, watching himself behave like an idiot. He cleared his throat.

“Want another beer?” Shit. That was not what he’d meant to say, but at least he’d managed to say  _ something _ . 

Feitan shrugged. “Okay!” 

Phinks was grateful for the excuse to step away. He stumbled across the room, wondering why his legs seemed to be giving out on him. He was just picking up two cans when Nobunaga flung an arm around his shoulders, reeking of sweat and spilled liquor. 

“Phiiinks, Phinksy, c’mere, we need you to settle a bet,” he chuckled, far too close to his ear. Before Phinks could protest he was being dragged away, glancing over his shoulder at the small figure sprawled across the floor. He regretted standing up. Nobunaga stopped him in front of Shalnark and Uvogin, all three of them dissolving into maniacal giggles as they looked at Phinks. He scowled at them and plopped onto the floor. 

“What the fuck do you guys want?”

Shalnark rolled onto his stomach, grinning at Phinks over Uvogin’s thighs. “A better question would be what do  _ you _ want, Phinks?”

“Yeah, Phinks, what  _ do _ you want?” Uvo repeated. He leered down at the blonde, lazily placing a hand in the middle of Shalnark’s back. 

Phinks snorted and cracked his beer open. He’d lost count at least an hour earlier, but he could tell he was going to be way too drunk if he didn’t stop soon. Stopping was going to be a bit difficult, though, especially if everyone was so hell-bent on teasing him. “I wanna know why you dragged me over here,” he burped. 

Nobunaga wheezed out a laugh and held up a joint. “You wanna chill out a bit? Maybe calm your nerves? You seem anxious, Phinksy.” 

“Don’t call me that. And I’m not anxious, I’m just annoyed at Tinkerbell here.”

“Awww, don’t be like that, Phinks! We’re all friends,” Shalnark teased. He went back to his phone, typing fast enough that it made Phinks squirm. Uvo took the joint from Nobunaga and lit it, exhaling a thick cloud across the group. 

“You chickened out on your bet, huh?” Uvo asked. His voice was much louder than it needed to be, and Chrollo glanced over at him with a small frown. He winced apologetically and took another drag.

Phinks snorted. “Fuck you guys. You know, I told Fei I’d bring him a beer, so I think I’m gonna—“

“YO! FEITAN!” Nobunaga shouted. All the color drained from Phinks’ face as the small man hopped up, drifting towards them as though he was floating across the floor. “YEAH, GET OVER HERE, MAN!”

“Why me?” Phinks whispered to the floor. 

Shalnark giggled. “Because you actually get embarrassed, Phinksy. We can’t help needing a little fun around here.” 

Feitan perched neatly next to Phinks, sitting just close enough that the taller man could feel his robe brush against the sleeve of his tracksuit. He held his breath. Feitan took the beer from his hand and opened it, sipping delicately. “Phinks? You look scared,” he observed helpfully. 

Nobunaga giggled again, exchanging a meaningful glance with Uvogin as he took the joint. “Awww, is Phinksy scared? Maybe he’s cold, and that’s why he’s shaking!”

“I’m not—“ Phinks looked down at his hands, horrified to find that they were indeed trembling. He took a final drag of his cigarette and pointedly ashed it into Nobu’s drink. “Fuck you, Nobu, it is kinda cold in here.” 

“Oh, cold?” Feitan asked softly. He leaned into Phinks without thinking, letting the drunkenness take control of his movements. His friend stiffened beside him. He frowned at the tension, deciding again that Chrollo must’ve been mistaken. If Feitan had opened his eyes over his next sip, he would’ve seen the shocked amusement painted across Shalnark’s face, but he missed it in his concentration on the drink. “This beer bad.”

Phinks was struggling to remember how to breathe. Uvogin’s eyebrows wiggled playfully at him and he scowled, trying to find a neutral place to fix his eyes between the mockery and the small figure next to him. Feitan’s head was surprisingly warm against his arm. He gulped down the rest of his beer in one go, anxious to get away from their friends. “It’s not the worst ever,” he mumbled awkwardly. Uvogin rolled his eyes as Shalnark stifled a laugh. 

“Is pot? I want,” Feitan said suddenly. He sat up again, reaching towards Nobunaga. The taller man scoffed and passed it over. Feitan took a hit and coughed lightly, burying his face back in his cowl. His eyes widened slightly as he looked at the joint in his hand. “Very good, this.” He took another hit and turned to Phinks, playfully blowing the smoke across his face. “You want?” 

“Okay,” Phinks squeaked. He cleared his throat and accepted Feitan’s offer, nearly dropping the joint when their fingers brushed together. Shalnark showed Uvogin something on his phone and they both giggled, shooting Phinks a meaningful look. He blushed, unsure what they could be discussing. The smoke filled his lungs slowly. Feitan had been right—Nobu’s weed  _ was _ good, better than the shit he’d had recently, at least. He took another drag. It was certainly relaxing. Cotton clouded his mind, soaking in the alcohol already present there, and he let a lazy smile dance across his lips. 

They kept smoking for a while, Nobunaga pulling two more joints out of his pockets as soon as they’d finished the first. “Here, you guys can share,” he chuckled, handing one to Feitan. The small man nodded happily and turned to Phinks, holding his hand out for the lighter. Phinks complied immediately and was rewarded with another cloud rolling across his face. His eyes watered. Feitan pressed the joint between his lips and he made a small sound, eliciting a sharp laugh from Shalnark. He didn’t really care anymore, though. His mind and body were sinking into the floor, his eyes focused solely on the flickering shadows crossing Feitan’s face.

“It’s getting late,” Chrollo said softly. Phinks nearly jumped out of his skin. The boss was standing right behind him, seemingly directing his words to Shalnark. The manipulator sighed. He got up, brushing his pants off and trailing after Chrollo towards another section of the building. Uvogin grunted and followed suit. Phinks watched in confusion, trying to kick his brain back into gear as the trio disappeared around a corner. 

“Well, that’s my cue, too,” Nobunaga said next to him. He stood with an enormous stretch, yawning dramatically as he reached his arms into the air. He scratched his stomach as he grinned down at Phinks. “See ya later, lover boy.” He giggled as he walked off, escaping whatever insult Phinks was struggling to devise. 

“Love boy?” Feitan asked slowly. He frowned at the hallway, wondering where everyone had gone. The whole main room had cleared out without him noticing. Odd. He usually kept better tabs on everyone, but he was pretty wasted at this point. The only one left was Franklin, snoring on a large mattress in front of the door. Feitan turned back to Phinks, smiling at how red his face was. 

“Pfft, no idea what he’s atalking bout,” Phinks slurred. His tongue felt heavy. He rolled his head back, noticing for the first time that he was alone with Feitan. The realization made him blush even harder.

“Pink Phinks,” Feitan giggled. He stood up slowly, wobbling a bit. “Is bedtime, yes?” 

“Oh, I guess.” 

“Then come.” The small spider extended a hand, giggling again as his friend’s large palm enveloped his. He tugged hard and Phinks stumbled to his feet. For whatever reason, Feitan found himself unable to let go. He dragged Phinks along behind him, staggering towards the room they’d been sharing. The hallway seemed longer now that he was drunk. He wondered again about what Nobunaga had said as he left, frowning slightly. Was Phinks in love? With Shalnark? It wasn’t impossible. The blonde was very flirtatious, his promiscuity seemingly unaffected by whatever the situation was with Uvogin. But Feitan couldn’t figure out when they would’ve gotten together without him noticing. Sure, there were all of their private conversations, but they didn’t last very long. Maybe it was one-sided, and that was why Phinks seemed so anxious and irritated tonight. He glanced over his shoulder and saw his friend’s face gleaming with sweat in the light of the moon. Phinks was staring at their hands as though they were on fire. Feitan dropped his wrist, suddenly disturbed that he’d held onto it for so long. The tall man shoved his hands into his pockets and directed his gaze at the floor. 

The room was freezing. One of them must have left the window open, because the shutter was slamming against the wall in the slight breeze. Feitan shivered and Phinks practically leapt across the floor to shut it, apologizing profusely in spite of himself. The small man shrugged and pulled his robe over his head, folding it neatly on the sagging shelves. Phinks swallowed hard. Feitan usually insisted on changing separately, even though they’d been friends since they were children. He was just a private person. But here he was, shrugging his shirt off as though it was nothing, humming quietly as he rummaged through his small pile of clothing. He tugged his pants off and Phinks turned away, ashamed that he’d been watching so intently. Even so, he’d caught a glimpse of Feitan’s spider, just the dark blot of it against his pale thigh. Phinks couldn’t remember seeing it since they’d gotten tattooed together. The thought of touching Feitan’s thighs burned in his stomach as he tugged his own clothes off and tried to focus. 

“Phinks?”

“Yeah?”

Phinks glanced over his shoulder, halfway through stepping out of his pants. He sputtered and fell forward. Feitan was nearly nude, his dark briefs the only cloth on his shivering body. He tittered lightly at the big man’s shock and took a few steps closer. Phinks just stared, wondering just how stupid he looked.

“Can’t find bed shirt. Borrow?” Feitan’s black hair flopped sideways as he cocked his head, giving Phinks a nervous smile. He hoped the blonde couldn’t tell he was lying. He didn’t know why he was, he just knew he was intoxicated enough to follow his most absurd impulses. And right now he wanted to drown in something that smelled like Phinks, wrap himself up in his shirt and imagine his arms around him. 

Phinks gaped at him for a moment, every coherent thought fleeing his brain as he took in the pale shadow of Feitan’s body. Fading scars wrapped around his chest and arms. The spider on his thigh was holding most of Phinks’ attention, luring his mind between his friend’s legs with the thin black lines. Feitan repeated his name and he jerked his head up, blushing furiously. He shoved his pants the rest of the way down before hopping up to grab a shirt. 

“Here, I—wait, this is the one I wore today, I—“

“Is fine! Thank you!” Feitan chirped, tugging the shirt over his head. The fabric was still warm. He grinned, hugging himself with one arm. Phinks was still staring at him. Feitan swallowed his smile, trying to decipher the expression on his friend’s face. The alcohol spoke for him. “What?” 

“You’re so cute,” Phinks gasped before he could stop himself. He winced and tugged his robe around his shoulders, belting it tightly. “I mean—“

“Oh, so Feitan is cute?” The smirk on Feitan’s face made Phinks shiver. “I agree. I very cute.” 

Phinks just nodded, dumbfounded. His heart was pounding. He felt a bit sick—he felt a lot of inconvenient things happening in his body. Feitan stepped towards him, donning a thoughtful expression. Before Feitan could speak again, Phinks barked an excuse about showering and jumped past him, dashing down the hall. Feitan’s mouth fell open in confused shock as he watched him leave. He cursed himself quietly, convinced he’d made a fool of himself. After all, Phinks had probably meant that he was cute like Kortopi was cute: small, babyish, squeezable. He scowled at the door and climbed into a bed, too drunk to realize he’d chosen the one Phinks slept in.

The pipes banged loudly as Phinks turned the water on. He heard someone—probably Machi—shout a complaint, but he was too freaked out to care. He ducked under the water as quickly as he could, rinsing his hair so aggressively that a few strands came away in his hands. “Fuck,” he breathed at the floor. Somehow, even with all of the alcohol he’d consumed, his dick had sprung to attention at the sight of Feitan grinning in his shirt. He glanced over his shoulder and decided everyone else was probably already sleeping. Hot water coursed down his chest as he took hold of himself, groaning the second his hand made contact. Through the thin walls he heard a squeal and a deep grunt followed by a breathy moan. His face went red at the realization that he was now jacking off while listening to Uvogin and Shalnark, but he was too drunk to stop at this point. Feitan’s legs danced behind his eyelids and he groaned again, increasing his pace. The guilt pricking the back of his mind only served to turn him on more. His cock throbbed in his grasp as he imagined Feitan’s small hands wrapping around it, pictured his lips parting around the cigarettes and joints and beers they’d consumed, and suddenly he was moaning, covering his mouth as he tugged at himself. Shal’s voice grew louder in his ears and he squeezed his eyes tighter, trying to concentrate. He remembered how soft Feitan’s fingers had felt against his cheek and how long his eyelashes were and how unbearably cute he looked in his shirt and then he grunted a soft curse and his knees buckled, the cum shooting across the shower onto the floor of the bathroom. 

“Shit, fuck, goddamn,” Phinks hissed at himself, scrambling for a towel. He cleaned up as best as he could. His body was sinking into exhaustion from the combination of alcohol, weed, and orgasm, but his mind suddenly sharpened as he turned the water off. Feitan would quite literally kill him if he knew about this. He cursed again and tied his robe around his waist. Uvogin and Shalnark were somehow even louder now, loud enough that he wondered how anyone else could possibly be sleeping through this. He wrinkled his nose and stumbled back to the bedroom, desperate to escape the knowledge of what they were calling each other.

Feitan glanced at the door as he heard the familiar footsteps coming down the hall. He hugged a pillow closely and buried his face in his shirt, inhaling the familiar scents of cigarettes, sweat, hair gel, and beer. His stomach hurt. He ran through the evening’s events in his mind, silently berating himself for flinging himself at Phinks at every opportunity. The blonde clearly wasn’t interested. Feitan himself wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with Phinks. It was somehow more than physical attraction—it had always been more—and he couldn’t fathom what that would mean for people like them. He thought about the words “cute,” “desire,” and “squeeze,” squinting as he tried to concentrate on why they’d been said to him that evening. A hand landed on the door and he rolled over to face the window, suddenly terrified of having to look Phinks in the eyes. 

Phinks could barely keep his eyes open. He tripped over his feet and collapsed into his bed, jumping up in shock when he realized there was already a body laying there. Feitan yelped and scrambled backwards, clutching the pillow to his chest.

“Fei, why—“

“What you—“

“This one’s mine, man,” Phinks yawned. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, trying to sift through the intoxication to find an appropriate question. “Yours is closer to the window, Fei.”

“Oh.” The whisper barely reached Phinks’ ears. Feitan didn’t move. He stared down at his hands, watching them blur as his eyes lost their focus. 

“Feitan?”

“Mm?”

“You gonna move, or... do you wanna share?”

Feitan nodded and slid under the covers again, awkwardly placing the pillow flat on the bed. “Is very cold,” he said quietly. Phinks rubbed the back of his head and shrugged. He was too gone to pretend he didn’t want this to happen. He pulled the blankets up and crawled in, staying as far away from Feitan as he could. The fear of ruining this moment froze him where he lay. 

After a few moments, Feitan inched closer. “Phinks, you never choose prize,” he whispered. He could just make out the contours of his friend’s face in the moonlight. Anxiety twisted his stomach as he wondered if he’d pushed too far by staying in the bed. “I can move,” he offered awkwardly. 

Phinks blushed, grateful for the darkness concealing his embarrassment. “No, you’re fine, Fei. And, uh... Yeah, I guess I didn’t.” 

“Do you know what you want?”

“Kinda.”

“What?”

“It’s... hard to say.”

“Tell me. I can steal.” 

“It’s... it’s not really something you  _ can _ steal, exactly. I mean... I guess it is, but  _ you _ wouldn’t be stealing it—just, never mind.” Phinks rolled over. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth and he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing Feitan would just drop it already. Tomorrow, when they’d sobered up, he could ask for new sneakers, send Feitan away, and forget about his stupid crush. It was better for the Troupe that way, anyways, he reminded himself. 

Feitan scoffed. “I can’t steal? What can’t steal? You know me? I steal anything. I want, I take. Don’t stupid, Phinks.” He pushed up on an elbow as he mumbled his drunken response, poking his friend’s broad shoulder aggressively. “Phinks, say word, I do for you. Is deal.” The last few words disappeared into a yawn and he slumped forwards, landing a few inches from Phinks’ back. His eyes widened in shock and he held his breath.

“‘S nothing, Fei, drop it.”

“Lie.”

“Huh?”

“You lie, baichi.” Without thinking, Feitan found his hand reaching out to touch Phinks again. He watched in horror as his fingers wrapped around his friend’s shoulder and tugged, trying to turn him around again. He drew his arm back as though he’d been burned.

Phinks rolled over slowly, terrified of what he’d find. Feitan’s face was so close he could feel the warmth of his breath. He swallowed hard and tried to come up with an answer, but his mind wouldn’t cooperate. Feitan looked at him and then glanced away as he awkwardly scooted back. They lay like that for a moment, with only their heartbeats and shallow breaths disturbing the silence of the dark room. Phinks finally cleared his throat.

“Why does Shal have to be so damn loud?” He winced as soon as he said it, kicking himself for being such an idiot. Feitan was  _ in his bed _ , for Christ’s sake, and he was still letting himself be distracted by Shalnark’s teasing. He silently vowed to never smoke with Nobunaga again.

Feitan’s face fell into a deep scowl and he slid a bit further away. “Yes, he annoy me,” he muttered. An icy rage filled his stomach as he pictured the blonde manipulator, wondering if Phinks had taken so long in the shower because they’d met up. He rolled to face the window. 

“Fei, I—“

“Goodnight, Phinks.”

“Oh.” Phinks rolled onto his back and dragged his hands down his face, wondering what on earth was wrong with him. “I’m... Fei, I’m sor—“

“Very sleep. Shut up.” 

“Okay.” 

Phinks glanced over at his friend’s small frame and sighed. His eyes were already closing again. He’d just have to deal with this in the morning. 


	2. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Troupe intimidates and kills some book dealers to make off with assorted rare books! Meanwhile, Feitan is avoiding Phinks (and Shalnark) (especially Shalnark). Phinks pines like the idiot he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some violence and implied violence in this one.

Feitan smiled dreamily and pressed closer to the warmth next to him, slowly gaining consciousness as the sun’s rays danced along his cheeks. His head ached a bit so he blindly ducked under the covers, sighing contentedly at the relief from the morning sun. He hummed quietly and tugged the body beside him closer. The body. His eyes flew open and he went completely numb as the realization hit him: the warmth was  _ Phinks _ , still snoring lightly with his big arms draped across Feitan’s shoulders. Their legs were tangled together. One long thigh stretched across Feitan’s hips, pinning him in place. He suddenly couldn’t breathe. He poked his head above the blanket again, hoping to find oxygen, but he was met with the overwhelming sight of his best friend’s peaceful smile and the soft gold of his hair in the morning light. Feitan blinked slowly. Phinks shifted.

“‘S’Fei, Kro.”

“Phinks?”

But he was still asleep, unconsciously pulling Feitan closer. Feitan couldn’t figure out why his heart was racing so fast—he certainly wasn’t in any danger, but his body’s reactions seemed to indicate fear. This intrigued him. He moved a foot experimentally, noting the weight of his friend’s leg shifting slightly as he rolled his hips forward. A small noise from Phinks made his heart rate spike. He smiled to himself. Voices echoed in the hall but he ignored them and took a deep breath, slipping one hand under the sleeve of his friend’s robe. Feitan’s ears burned as he carefully slid his hand across Phinks’ shoulder, tentatively tracing the line of his collarbone up to his neck with a single finger. The blonde twitched and he froze. Phinks sighed in his sleep and nuzzled into Feitan’s hair, mumbling something inaudible as he sank deeper into the bed. Feitan felt like his entire body was on fire, like he’d just discovered he had an aura and was being slowly doused in warm honey. The smell of Phinks was so intoxicating he briefly wondered if he was still drunk. He wasn’t used to letting himself relax like this, especially not in such close proximity to another person. It somehow felt far more dangerous than any battle he’d ever fought. 

The door slammed open and Feitan jumped, trying to extract himself as quickly as possible. Phinks bolted upright with a confused yelp. Shalnark stood in the doorway, hands placed triumphantly on his hips.

“GOOD MORNING, BOYS! Oooh, am I interrupting?” He giggled deviously, taking another step towards the bed. “HEY UVO, YOU WERE RIGHT! THEY WERE STILL ASLEEP!” 

Feitan flung the nearest sharp object at Shalnark’s head, missing by a mile as he sank back into the covers. He’d rolled himself up into a small nest as he’d leapt from the bed, landing in a cozy pile that was severely restricting his movements. Phinks just rubbed his eyes. He’d been having a lovely dream... He blinked slowly, trying to process the sights before him. He scowled as he realized who’d woken him up.

“What the fuck, Shal? Get the hell out of here.”

“Hey! Boss wants everyone downstairs, so I volunteered to check. Aren’t you glad it was me?” The blonde beamed at them, texting something on his phone without even glancing at the screen. “I thought you didn’t want everyone to know, Phinks.”

Phinks jumped from the bed and tossed his pillow in Shalnark’s general direction. His face was bright red. “Fuck you, dude, don’t—shut the fuck up! You don’t—Fei, ignore him.” 

Shalnark’s grin seemed to get even wider. “Oooh, I see. Well, if you two sleepyheads are done cuddling, we’re waiting!” 

“I’m surprised anyone slept with all the noise you and Uvo were making,” Phinks snarled. He smirked at the flicker of rage in the manipulator’s eyes. “Thought you didn’t want everyone to know,” he teased rudely. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t speak to me like that if I were you,” Shalnark replied cheerily. He winked at Feitan and slipped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. 

Phinks groaned and sank back onto the bed, holding his face in his hands. “Fuck, I can’t believe him. Fei, you good down there?” He turned around at the noncommittal response. “What?”

“Yes. Now go, I change.”

“Oh. Right, yeah.” 

—————————

The market was packed with people, far more than the Troupe had been expecting. Uvogin was grinning. Phinks watched him scanning the crowd, excited by the hungry look in his eyes. He was itching to start a fight. But the boss had told them to cool it, at least for now, and so Phinks just watched, taking stock of the heavily armed mercenaries standing around the entrances to the best shops. He cracked his knuckles. The watching was getting boring. It had been over an hour since Chrollo, Feitan, and Pakunoda had disappeared into an unassuming building tucked away in an alley, one of the rare ones without a wooden sign swaying in the breeze. The only hint of the exchanges taking place inside was the unusual number of guards posted around it. So far, Phinks had spotted at least five, but he assumed there were a few more out of his line of sight. He hated waiting. He stretched his arms above his head and squinted at the second-floor window, trying to follow the shapes of his comrades as they bargained with the shadowy figures inside. He checked his phone again. Fifteen more minutes and he’d have the all clear to barge in after them.

“You two looked cute this morning.”

Phinks jumped. He hadn’t even heard Shalnark approaching, being too focused on keeping his eyes on the trio inside. He scowled. Any distraction would’ve pissed him off, but the added insult of it being Shalnark made his blood boil. He scoffed and returned his eyes to the window. He could just make out the silhouette of Feitan’s spiky hair.

“Well? Aren’t you gonna tell me what happened?” Shalnark stepped a bit closer. He wore an uncharacteristically gentle smile, a look that somehow made Phinks even more uncomfortable than the creepy grin the manipulator sometimes turned on him in the middle of a fight. “C’mon, Phinks, I gotta at least know how it went. You two do anything interesting?”

“No,” Phinks spat, “we just slept. Now leave me alone. I’m busy.” 

Shalnark just shrugged and leaned against the wall. “Did you even try to talk to him, or are you just going to keep making a fool of yourself?”

“Shut up, Shal.”

“Hmm. Well, based on my findings this morning, I’d say you’ve got nothing to lose. Was that your shirt Fei was wearing?”

Phinks went red. “He couldn’t find his pajamas.”

“Oh, sure. God, Phinks, you’re even dumber than you look.” Shalnark laughed loudly and strode off, humming happily to himself. The irritating sounds of his phone stuck around behind him. 

Phinks just glared at the ground. He understood what his friend was implying, but he couldn’t make it make sense in his mind. Feitan had been drunk and high and tired and cold, the combination of which could easily explain the bizarre events of the previous night. Still, Phinks couldn’t shake the thrill of the split second before he saw Shalnark in the doorway, when he’d opened his eyes to find Feitan curled up against him and gently stroking his skin. Maybe Shalnark had a point. He  _ was _ supposed to be good at reading people. Then again, Feitan had barely looked at Phinks all morning, focusing entirely on Chrollo and the day’s mission. Phinks sighed and checked his phone again. Ten more minutes. 

Inside the building, Feitan was also getting impatient. Pakunoda’s presence always made him feel redundant, and he was beginning to wonder why Chrollo had even asked him to join the meeting. They were there for some books, ones he’d probably never be able to read before they were resold. He glanced out the window. The streets below were full of moving bodies, but he could still pinpoint the rest of the Troupe scattered around the market. It was impossible to miss Uvogin and Franklin’s enormous figures, especially with the wide berth other customers were giving them, and Machi’s bright pink hair stood out from a crowded cafe. Feitan frowned when his eyes landed on Phinks and Shalnark. He turned back to the boss, waiting for the signal. The slightest creak of a floorboard drew his attention and he turned just in time to knock a gun from the hands of an overzealous bodyguard. He hissed a quiet threat as he held his blade to the man’s neck. Everyone froze. 

“That’s rather impolite,” Chrollo said calmly. “I was under the impression that we had an agreement for today.” 

The dealer swallowed hard. “M-My apologies, Mr. Lucilfer. I’m... I’m sure he was just anxious about our, our proximity, if you will.” 

“Hmm.” Chrollo looked at the ceiling thoughtfully, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his dark coat. “Well, that’s quite unfortunate, wouldn’t you agree? Because now, you see, he’s upset my friend here, and I’m sure you wouldn’t like to see what happens when he’s upset.” He turned a small smile to the dealer, taking another step closer. The man shrank back in his chair. “I’m only going to ask you one more time. Who did you sell it to? I’d love to... pay them a visit.” 

Feitan smirked at the sweat pouring down the dealer’s face. “Danchou?”

“Oh—right, of course. Go ahead.”

A quick flick of Feitan’s wrist and the bodyguard was decapitated, slumping to the floor as a deep red oozed across the expensive-looking rug. He wiped his blade calmly. The remaining bodyguards fidgeted nervously and he smiled under his collar. Only a few more minutes until they’d be allowed to go wild. Pakunoda frowned at him. She crossed behind the desk, gently laying a hand on the dealer’s shoulder. Feitan sighed. His skills weren’t needed here.

“Now, who was it that bought it?” 

A few moments later, the trio stepped out to the street. Uvogin groaned loudly but Shalnark chided him, reminding him that they had important matters to attend to. Phinks shrugged. He’d been looking forward to a little mayhem, but he couldn’t deny he was relieved to see Feitan again. Maybe he could switch cars with Paku and ride with him back to the hideout. He fell in behind Nobunaga as their group slowly slipped back into an unconscious formation, drawing confused stares from the other shoppers. His eyes were glued to the back of Feitan’s head. A sharp elbow disrupted his thoughts. 

“Man, you’ve really got it bad, Phinks,” Nobunaga chuckled. He winked playfully. Phinks just scowled. 

“Shut up, Nobu.”

“You claim your prize yet?”

“I told you to shut up.” 

“Tch. How can you call yourself a thief if you can’t even steal a kiss?”

Phinks snorted. He was getting tired of this. He lit a cigarette before reaching up to yank Nobunaga’s ponytail, stopping them both in their tracks. “Listen, Nobunaga,” he hissed, “the Troupe doesn’t need  _ three _ enhancers, got it? Leave me the hell alone.”

Nobunaga’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword. “Okay, Phinksy, but I’d love to see you try.” 

Machi was standing in front of them before Phinks could respond, scowling and impatiently tapping her foot. “If you two idiots are done, we have a job to do. Phinks, you switch with Bono. You assholes clearly can’t be in the same car.” 

———————————

“Bullshit.”

“Nope, all yours!” 

Shalnark shoved the pile of cards towards Nobunaga with a grin. Feitan stifled a yawn. They were on their third round of the game, still waiting for anything to happen. Chrollo had brought Pakunoda and Machi inside this time, as expected, telling the rest of them to split up and watch the exits. Everyone seemed fairly relaxed. Everyone except Phinks, who was twitching and standing up and sitting down and fiddling with his cards and not paying attention to the game in the slightest. Feitan watched him, concerned by the uncharacteristic display of nerves. This was a simple heist, after all, one that hardly necessitated the entire Troupe. Four and Eight hadn’t even bothered to join. Yet he seemed edgier than normal. Perhaps he knew something the rest of them didn’t, though that seemed unlikely. Feitan looked at his cards. He’d be lying on his next round, not that it mattered. The only person who could see through his poker face wasn’t paying attention.

A book landed on the ground a few feet away and Phinks leapt up, tossing the cards down. The others followed suit, each buzzing with excitement at the signal to begin. Shalnark protested as he cleaned up on his own. Feitan rolled his eyes and sped inside, relieved that the inexplicable tension had finally dissipated. The library was dark. He stopped at an illuminated glass case to gaze at the vibrant colors of a medieval prayer book, marveling at the effort the artists had put into creating what seemed to be such a pointless object. And then he smashed his fist through the glass. The sound echoed through the bookshelves and he heard Shalnark laugh loudly before a symphony of glass breaking filled the building, punctuated by the raucous laughter of the others. Feitan smirked as he drifted through the stacks. They could take their pick of these rare books now that the boss had the key to the underground storage room containing the book he sought. It was bound in human skin, and Feitan looked forward to the opportunity to borrow it from Chrollo.

Phinks wandered aimlessly, too distracted to enjoy the job. His thoughts were stuck on what Shalnark had said earlier. Now that he was thinking straight, it  _ was _ hard to believe that Feitan hadn’t been able to locate the clothes he usually slept in. They didn’t have many belongings. Phinks stopped in front of a bookshelf and tried to focus. He pulled his phone out to inspect the titles, grinning at the discovery he’d made: this was a subsection of the books on art, highlighting controversial artists whose work had been taken out of circulation and destroyed. A book the color of dried blood caught his attention. When he opened it, he found that it had been printed with actual blood, apparently that of the artist and his lover. He wondered if Feitan would like it and blushed. Phinks looked around before shoving it into his bag. He started wandering again, wondering where the ancient history section might be. 

A sharp cry rang out from above and Feitan glanced up, experiencing a momentary flash of jealousy that he wasn’t upstairs causing pain. He sighed. It still wasn’t clear to him why Chrollo had wanted Machi to work on this particular victim, but he supposed it was none of his business. He peered through a gap in some books. Kortopi sat at the entrance, dutifully copying everyone’s selections so they’d have a buffer once any authorities got involved. If they even bothered. Feitan kept walking. He heard a familiar tinny beeping and scowled, pausing to spy on Shalnark through the stacks. The blonde was leaning against a bookshelf, seemingly uninterested in the available loot. He looked amused by something. Feitan rolled his eyes and moved on, suddenly full of irritation. He tried to clear his head. He’d been avoiding Phinks all day, mortified by his behavior the night before and unwilling to address the matter of sharing a bed. It felt wrong to be so easily unsettled. His frown deepened. Maybe if he found a book for Phinks, the bet would be settled, and things would go back to normal. 

Uvogin was arguing with Franklin loudly enough that Phinks changed his direction, walking aimlessly towards the door. He stopped to ask Kortopi about the layout, but the conjurer just shrugged and waved him away. The shelves seemed endless. How could there be so many rare books? It seemed counterintuitive. Phinks frowned at a stack of pornographic illustrations before shoving them in his bag, figuring they’d give everyone a good laugh. He wondered if Feitan was having any luck. Surely the transmuter had already found some of the best books—his taste varied widely when it came to reading material, but from what he explained to Phinks, it always sounded fascinating. Phinks felt his cheeks grow hot as he thought about how much he liked hearing Feitan read aloud. He knew his friend struggled with the language but the words somehow sounded better when he said them, more compelling and thoughtful, as though the small spider’s raspy whisper gave them new layers of meaning. He’d just have to find something that he could convince Feitan to read to him. If Feitan decided to look at him again. 

Feitan rounded a corner and smirked. A thick, leather-bound book printed with hieroglyphics was slumped on the end of a shelf, laying there as though it had been waiting for him. It was shockingly heavy. He sat down to look through it, smiling at the gorgeous illustrations of ancient gods and mummification rituals. This would be a perfect gift for Phinks. He heard his friend’s footsteps one row over and slammed the book shut, slipping it into his bag. The footsteps stopped at the sound and he looked up. Wide eyes peered down at him between a few books.

“Hey, Fei... find anything cool?” Phinks rubbed his arm awkwardly, grateful for the strange barrier between them. He was struck by how natural Feitan seemed in this environment. He looked as though he’d been haunting this library for centuries. 

“Yes, many,” Feitan chirped happily. He started to stand but one of the books slipped from his bag, falling open on the floor with a loud slap. 

Phinks jumped slightly. “You okay?”

“Just book.”

“Can... can I see?”

Feitan closed the book slowly, gently stroking his fingers along the leather cover. “Was surprise.”

“For—for me?”

“If you want.”

Phinks swallowed. At least the books were hiding how red his face felt. “I, uh, gee... thanks, man. I found—here, I’ll come over.” He shuffled around the stacks, feeling dizzy as he got closer to his friend. Had Feitan sought out a gift for him, or just happened upon it? Did it matter?

“Look, very Phinks,” Feitan murmured shyly. He sat down again, cracking the enormous tome open to show the blonde some of the illustrations. Phinks knelt beside him and let out an appreciative whistle.

“Damn, Fei, this is amazing! It’s exactly the type of shit I’ve been trying to find. You’re so good at this kinda stuff, man, I’ve just been wandering around like an idiot, heh, getting kinda lost.” 

Feitan buried his face deeper in his cowl, trying to hide his smile. “Yes, I just find. Seem like you might want, so I take. Is this good for bet?” 

Phinks leaned back on his arms and stared at the ceiling anxiously. His head was swimming. This was the perfect opportunity to say yes, take the book, and let everything go back to normal. It was also, however, the perfect opportunity to say no and ask if Feitan would consider kissing him. He heard Nobunaga laughing nearby and blushed harder. 

“Phinks?”

“Ummm... well, it wouldn’t really work, cause, uh, I got you a thing, too,” he mumbled nervously. He pulled the bloody book from his bag and laid it atop the one Feitan had found him, turning its cracking pages with a shaking hand. “It’s, uh, this guy made it with like, his blood, and.... umm, not just his blood, but this other guy’s blood, who, he uh, yeah, they were, uh, t-together.” 

Feitan’s eyes widened. He took the book from Phinks and inched closer to the window behind him, holding the pages up to the light of the moon. One of the prints depicted two men curled together in a bed. Their rust-colored bodies seemed to overlap much like he and Phinks had been entangled that morning. His heartbeat throbbed in his ears. Phinks had to have selected it for the medium, not the content, he reminded himself, knowing that Feitan had a small collection of artworks printed in blood and other bodily fluids. He turned to another page. Two bloody faces pressed together in a deep kiss. He slammed the book shut. 

“Interesting!” Feitan winced slightly, still facing away from Phinks. He was reluctant to say anything more. 

The blonde chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, I thought you might like it. It’s a bit, uh, lovey-dovey, I guess, but it’s still made of blood, so... yeah.” 

Feitan nodded and clutched the book to his chest. He poked the book he’d selected for Phinks with the tip of his boot. “You like?”

“Yes! Oh my god, Fei, I love it, you—you’re, well, you know. Yeah. I love this stuff,” Phinks babbled excitedly. He directed his eyes back to the worn pages, caressing the edges of the papyrus. “And it seems pretty authentic, too. Really cool. Um... thanks for thinking of me.”

“No thanks. I just find.” 

“Yeah, right. Um...” Phinks trailed off, staring blankly at the thick tendons that ran through the central binding. “Fei, I’ve been thinking, and—“

“Hey guys, boss says we should be ready in ten.” Franklin’s low voice slunk between the bookshelves, popping the ballooning tension between Feitan and Phinks. He gave Phinks a meaningful look before walking away. Phinks groaned and stood up, shoving the book into his bag. Feitan glanced out at the moon. 

“What you think?” He asked quietly. 

“Oh, nothing,” Phinks mumbled. 

“Hmmm.” Feitan pulled his cowl higher as he wondered if he should press the issue. It did feel as though things with Phinks were already going back to normal. He sighed quietly and turned towards the door. Phinks was standing surprisingly close to him, stumbling backwards a few steps as Feitan looked up at him in surprise. 

“I, uh, do you wanna see if we can find anything else before we go? Whoever finds the coolest thing wins?”

Feitan smirked. “Win what?”

“Oh, you know... ummm... why don’t we make it different this time, maybe like... a favor, or, uh, a, a question, maybe. Dunno,” Phinks stammered. He was already regretting this suggestion. Feitan was bound to win. 

“Hmmm.” Feitan paused at the end of the stacks, looking thoughtfully at the section illuminated by the light of Shalnark’s phone. “Everyone decide who win, yes? And then... maybe favor. No stealing, just do?”

“Yeah, exactly! Alright, let’s do this.” Phinks tore around the corner, already sweating bullets. He followed the noises of Shalnark’s phone and grabbed his shoulders, whipping him around.

“Shal, you gotta help me.”

Shalnark beamed at him. “What do you need?”

“I gotta find something cooler than Feitan, so I can win—“

“Another bet? Already? Did you even claim your prize from the first one?” Shalnark’s voice was much louder than Phinks was comfortable with. He shifted his weight awkwardly and held a finger to his lips. The manipulator just smirked.

“Shut up, Shal, just help me. Please, man.”

Shalnark sighed dramatically. “Alright, let’s go. I bet we can find something in Fei’s language.”

Phinks brightened up immediately. “Fuck, why didn’t I think of that? Thanks, Shal. I owe you.”

“Mmm, don’t worry, I’ll make you pay me back,” Shalnark said with a wink. He dragged Phinks to an unbelievably dusty shelf, scanning it quickly by the light of his phone. “Here!” 

Phinks sneezed as Shalnark disturbed the cobwebs, dropping the offering to the floor. “Shit, well, thanks,” he grumbled as he reached for it. Shalnark crouched next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Phinks went bright red. 

“You’re so cute when you’re nervous,” Shalnark sighed, “but you should really lighten up. What did you bet this time?”

Phinks directed his gaze to the book. It was small and dark, printed with pale characters that he could barely make out. He wondered if Shalnark had been waiting for him to ask for his help. He cleared his throat. “A favor.”

Shalnark laughed brightly and cradled his cheeks in both hands. “And what favor will you ask for, Phinksy?” 

“I, uh, haven’t figured that out yet,” he mumbled. He was suddenly very uncomfortable with how close Shalnark’s face was to his own. His thoughts drifted to what he’d overheard the night before. His friend cocked his head and smiled, batting long eyelashes only a few inches away. 

“Well, you better think of something, cause I think you’re gonna win this one,” Shal teased softly. He leaned in until their noses were touching, giggling at the way Phinks held his breath. “By the way, if you ever repeat what you heard last night, I will turn you into my personal puppet. And nobody will be the wiser.” He pecked a quick kiss on Phinks’ nose and hopped up, laughing loudly at the dark cloud spreading across his friend’s brow. “Let’s go, Romeo.” 

Feitan’s nails punctured the cover of the book he was holding, tearing right through the first few pages. He felt sick. He’d gone looking for anything that might impress Phinks, hoping to find another illuminated manuscript, when he’d heard his friends’ voices a few shelves over. The sight of Shalnark cradling Phinks’ face and kissing his nose was now burned into his mind, playing on repeat like an inescapable nightmare. He threw the book he’d been holding at the wall and stormed off. The exchange he’d had with Phinks only minutes earlier seemed light years away. He barged directly into Franklin in his distraction, blinking up at the giant as he tried to collect himself enough to speak. Franklin frowned down at him and sat to look in his eyes.

“Everything alright, Feitan? You look a little queasy.” 

“Fine. Air bad here. Need... need to go.”

“Yeah, we’re leaving soon,” Franklin said slowly. He scratched his head, wondering what on earth would have shaken the usually unflappable interrogator. Giddy laughter rang through the room and he sighed. “Find anything worth keeping?”

Feitan shuffled uncomfortably. “Yes. But still need one more, for... bet with Phinks,” he said quietly. He was glad his cowl covered his quavering mouth. Everything about his body’s reactions was terrifying to him, indicative of a deep weakness he’d never known he contained. “Find best book, win bet,” he explained drily. 

Franklin nodded thoughtfully and stood up. “I think Bono found some cool stuff over there. Maybe there’s a mythology one or something, I bet Phinks would be into that.” He glanced down at Feitan again, trying to read the dark expression on his face. It was like trying to read another language. He sighed again and started towards the shelves Bonolenov had shown him, hoping that whatever was going on would resolve itself soon. All this tension would only lead to misfortune. 

Feitan trailed after the enormous emitter slowly, still lost in his own thoughts. He’d never anticipated feeling jealous about Phinks, but that had to be the sensation eating away at his stomach. Why would Shalnark kiss him if there was nothing going on between them? And what had he whispered before the kiss? Feitan’s mind was running wild. He tried to pinpoint the moment he knew he was attracted to Phinks but couldn’t think clearly, only able to recall every muscle that swelled in his arms and the devious grin he sported when he was really letting loose and the length of his powerful legs leaping through broken windows. But casually sleeping with another member of the Troupe had always seemed like a bad idea, especially sleeping with his closest partner. Would it be casual? He shoved the thoughts away. He was getting used to ignoring them. Franklin stopped abruptly and he nearly walked right into his broad back, catching himself just in time to freeze his expression in a mask of casual indifference.

“Here, Bono found this one about the history of Kakin, that place—didn’t you guys do a job there last year? Anyways, maybe this’ll do,” Franklin shrugged. Feitan nodded and took the book, poring over its tiny lettering. Phinks would definitely be interested in this, but it was hard to say if everyone else in the Troupe would agree it was a winning find. He sighed and closed it. There wasn’t time to find something else. He thanked Franklin absentmindedly and drifted towards the entrance, his footsteps heavy with doubt. The night seemed even darker than it had when they’d entered. He briefly wondered if he could take the night watch from Machi, hoping it might allow him some time to think away from Phinks. Shalnark’s loud laugh whined into his ears and he scowled. Yes, he’d definitely prefer to stay up tonight. 


	3. Trade-Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the book exchange!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's got some light blood kink.

Phinks fumbled with his cigarettes, watching the door anxiously. Shalnark was sitting on the ground next to him, completely absorbed in his phone, while Uvogin and Nobunaga practiced sparring in the center of the room. The last car was over twenty minutes late already. He glanced down at Shalnark, wondering if he should ask the manipulator to check their locations again. It wasn’t like Chrollo to get sidetracked, especially not with Pakunoda, Feitan, and Machi by his side. Phinks waited another minute before clearing his throat.

“Uh, Shal, do you think—“

“Paku texted, she said they’re getting dinner.”

“Oh.” 

Phinks shoved his hands in his pockets again, relieved that there was an answer. He should’ve known better than to worry. Kortopi and Nobunaga were spread on the floor a few yards away, poring over the books they’d brought back. He looked down at his own pile. The book for Feitan was perched atop the others, staring back at him as though it was challenging him to read it. He bent over and picked it up, thumbing through the pages. Spidery writing scrawled across handmade paper, so thin and faded Phinks wondered if Feitan would be able to read it at all. Part of him hoped his friend would win this bet. At least then he wouldn’t have to come up with a favor and a request. He closed the book with a sigh, replacing it carefully. Shalnark glanced up at him and grinned. 

“He’s gonna love it, buddy. And stop being such a dumbass, he’s obviously into you, too!”

“Shut up,” Phinks grunted. His face was going red again. “What the hell do you know anyways?”

Shalnark giggled. “Oh, I know all kinds of things, Phinks! And I know there’s no other explanation for him sleeping in your bed last night.” 

“It was really cold,” Phinks said lamely. His friend just laughed and returned to his phone. He crossed his arms and stared at the door again, straining his ears for any approaching car. It still seemed strange that Chrollo had made a last-minute change just to pick up food. But he wasn’t going to question it. Especially not if it meant they would eat real meals tonight. 

Another ten minutes passed before tires squealed nearby and Phinks jumped off the wall, bounding towards the entrance of the hideout. Shalnark laughed behind him but he ignored it, stepping out into the cold night. Headlights cut across his vision like a knife. The car skidded into place beside the others, Machi and Chrollo hopping out with armfuls of takeout containers. Phinks grinned. He reached into the backseat, greeting Feitan nervously as he pulled out another bag. The small man just nodded and stepped outside. He drifted into the building without a word. Phinks stared after him in confusion. Everything had seemed to be normal when they were in the library, so why was Feitan ignoring him again? Pakunoda gave him a strange look and he blushed, hurrying inside. 

Dinner was burgers and fries and chicken tenders, piles of wrappers flung everywhere as everyone chowed down. Phinks watched Feitan nervously. He was sitting off to the side, primly nibbling a hamburger as he perused one of his new books. It wasn’t the one Phinks had given him. Phinks took another bite of his burger and swallowed hard, wondering why he felt so damn sad about what was fairly normal behavior for his friend. Feitan frequently ate alone, after all. It was just another quirk of his, another way to hold himself at a distance. A thick finger prodded his shoulder and Phinks jumped slightly. Franklin held out a beer. 

“You’re staring again, Phinks.”

Phinks blushed as he took the can. “Oh. Thanks.” 

“Something was up with him in the library. You guys fight or something? He turn you down?”

“No,” Phinks sighed, “everything was totally normal, and now he’s—I dunno, being like this.” He waved his hand in Feitan’s general direction, taking a big swig. “I haven’t... I haven’t asked him or anything, yet. I know it’s cowardly, just—“

“It’s not,” Franklin said firmly. Phinks looked up at him, confused. He sighed and continued. “Like I said last night, it’s better for all of us if we don’t get attached to each other on that level. I think it’s a little late for you, but you can at least try to distract yourself. Uvo and Shal... these kinds of things don’t end well for people like us. We’ve all been spending too much time together. When this job is over, you should try to go off on your own for once, see if that helps smooth things out. It’s what I would do if I were in your shoes.” He finished his beer in one go, wiping his mouth as he looked Phinks in the eyes. Phinks was struck by an unfamiliar emotion there, but his friend turned away before he could ask. 

“You’re right,” Phinks muttered into his drink. He finished it quickly and stepped away, resigning himself to the idea of splitting off from Feitan within the next few days. The thought made him anxious. While they weren’t really supposed to spend time together outside of Troupe business, he and Feitan generally stuck together when everyone broke apart. It was just a habit at this point. They worked well together, intimately familiar with each other’s fighting style and way of thinking, able to tackle pretty much anything with minimum conversation. He shifted his weight uncomfortably as he stared at the cooler. The jobs he worked by himself were never as satisfying without Feitan to share in the spoils. He looked across the room again, frowning as he watched Feitan bury himself deeper in his cloak until he was barely visible apart from his hair. His ears burned at the memory of his pale thighs in the moonlight and he shook his head, trying to bring himself back to reality. 

Shalnark collapsed next to Feitan with a dramatic sigh, poking him with his foot when the transmuter ignored him. 

“Whatcha reading, Fei?”

“Book,” Feitan responded coldly. He turned slightly, hoping the blonde would leave him alone.

Shalnark laughed and took a sip of his beer. “I can see that! What’s it about?”

“Why ask?”

“I’m just curious, Fei, jeez. What’s gotten into you?” 

“Nothing. I curious, too.” Feitan closed the book and pocketed it, directing an icy glare at his friend. “You and Uvo, yes?” 

Shalnark’s grin twitched ever so slightly. “What about me and Uvo?”

Feitan smirked under his collar. “You two... together, yes? Sex?” 

“Well, gee,” Shalnark laughed brightly, “when you put it like that, it hardly sounds nice.” His smile was etched firmly into his face. Feitan noted the hardness behind his eyes with glee. 

“I not very nice, Shalnark. Yes or no?”

Shalnark took another slow sip, scanning the room over the edge of the can. “Why are you asking that?” 

Feitan shrugged. “Seem obvious to me. Touch too much for friends.”

“Hmmm.” Shalnark tilted his head thoughtfully. His smile somehow grew wider. “And what would you know about that, Feitan?”

“Nothing,” Feitan snapped. 

“You have a problem with it?”

“No. Just asking.”

“Interesting,” Shalnark murmured. His eyes darted to where Phinks stood. Feitan followed his gaze with a frown. “What difference does it make to you, Fei?”

Feitan shrugged and stood up. “None. But bad idea for Troupe, maybe. Spider is first.” He walked off, aiming for the cooler. Once he’d said that aloud he couldn’t stop thinking it: sleeping with anyone in the Troupe was a bad call, one that might lead to favoritism or divisive behaviors. Still, there was the matter of what Chrollo had said the night before, his musings on Feitan’s heart and what he might desire. Feitan scowled at the ground and changed course. Chrollo would know what to do. 

Before Feitan reached Chrollo, a strong hand caught his arm. He turned around, startled by the interruption. Phinks gave him an awkward grin and released his grip. 

“Uhh... so, aren’t we gonna see who won?” 

Feitan blinked. He’d forgotten about the bet entirely, being too wrapped up in the memory of Shalnark kissing Phinks in the library. His mouth felt incredibly dry as he looked up at his friend. “Oh. Yes... Yes, we ask.” He gestured vaguely to the rest of the room. “They choose winner.”

“Right,” Phinks nodded. He swallowed the questions he wanted to ask, turning his back on Feitan to address their comrades. “HEY! Guys, everyone—real quick, you gotta help us settle this bet, alright?” A fair bit of grumbling ensued, but everyone gathered a bit closer. Phinks grinned nervously and picked up the book Shalnark had found. Feitan stalked over to his bag and yanked out the book for Phinks, scowling at it as he crossed the floor again. He thrust it out at his friend. Phinks gave him an odd look but put it on a makeshift table, explaining to everyone that they had to pick which book seemed cooler. Machi rolled her eyes. 

“This is dumb. Why do we even have to be involved? Just give each other your stupid—“

“Machi,” Chrollo said softly. She scoffed and folded her arms, leaning over the table to inspect the offerings. Chrollo turned his gentle smile on Phinks before drifting over to make his selection. Everyone crowded around, leaving Phinks and Feitan watching on the outskirts. Phinks turned to his friend with what he hoped was a casual smile. 

“You better be ready to lose, Fei. I found something that’ll blow your mind.”

Feitan snorted. “Not possible. You too stupid.”

“Hey,” Phinks said with a frown. “That’s not—“

“Shut up. Let them choose,” Feitan snapped. He walked away, picking up a beer and finishing it as quickly as he could. He made a face at the taste before picking up another. Phinks was still staring at him, a confused frown marring his handsome face. Feitan groaned internally at the word “handsome” crossing his mind. He drifted up behind Machi and tapped her on the shoulder. 

“You watch tonight, yes?”

Her pink ponytail bobbed as she nodded. “Mmhmm.”

“Switch me.”

Machi frowned at him. “Why?”

“No reason,” Feitan shrugged. “Feel awake today, maybe.”

“Hmm. Well, be my guest. I’d rather sleep, that’s for sure.” She smirked and started to step away, but Feitan cleared his throat. She glanced at him over her shoulder.

“Machi...” Feitan started. He directed his gaze to the ground, wondering if he should even ask. “You... you and Pakunoda, yes?” 

Machi couldn’t quite contain the small smile that flitted across her face. “Yes,” she said softly. “I love her, if that’s what you’re asking. Why?” 

Feitan cocked his head thoughtfully. “How you know that?”

“Hmm.” She looked at the top of his head tilted towards the floor, then glanced back at Phinks, watching him arguing with Nobunaga. She rolled her eyes. “You just know, Feitan. Like how you know how you feel about—“

“About nothing,” Feitan hissed. He jerked his head up to glare at her, eyes gleaming with an unexpected anger. “That all. Thank you.” He stormed back to the group. His stomach churned as he wondered how she’d figured him out. Was it really that obvious? He cursed himself silently. Phinks and Nobunaga were laughing now, having settled whatever minor spat they’d been yelling about seconds before. Pakunoda held both books in her hands. Feitan looked at them, noticing for the first time the book Phinks had found. The print was faded and difficult to read but it was  _ his language, _ one he could no longer remember hearing from anyone other than himself. He swallowed. The desire to snatch the book from Pakunoda and pore through it buzzed at the back of his brain like someone had trapped a beehive at the nape of his neck. He glanced at Phinks again, wondering how he’d found it, wondering if Shalnark had been the one to track it down, wondering why on earth the manipulator would have been so damn close to Phinks if they were working together to find something so unbelievably precious for him. Because it was precious, more emotionally charged than Feitan would like to admit. He’d only ever found two books in his language before. One had been left with him, apparently, given to him by a matron on the day they celebrated every child’s birthday at the orphanage. She’d shrugged as she dropped it in front of him. He still didn’t know how he knew what the characters meant, but they lived in his mind as clearly as though he’d grown up speaking only in his native tongue. His knees felt weak. He went for another beer. 

“Okay,” Pakunoda announced, “I think we all agree now, right?” A chorus of vague assertions and nods followed and she gestured to Bonolenov. “A drumroll, if you will, sir.” She held both books behind her back, enjoying the moment of showmanship as the quiet man rapped out a quick beat on the table. 

“And the winner is... Phinks! Sorry, Feitan.” 

Phinks whooped loudly, trying to ignore the panic spreading through his veins. He didn’t have any idea what to ask for. Feitan shrugged and grabbed the book from Pakunoda, drifting away to read in a corner. Shalnark nudged Phinks with a grin. 

“Told ya!” 

“Yeah man, thanks. Like I said, I owe you.” 

Shalnark laughed. “You sure do! Good luck with your little favor.” 

Phinks blushed and took his book, curious to see what Feitan had found. His face grew hotter as he recognized the map of the Kakin Empire. They’d been there together last year, making off with a collection of fine gowns from some socialite’s closet. It had been an unusually fun job. Low stakes, high reward, and a lot of traveling, exactly the relief they’d needed after narrowly escaping a bombing. He smiled fondly at a memory of Feitan stealing a box of gourmet truffles from a candy shop, remembering how the incredibly rich flavors had made them both sick. The book was bound in green satin, cool and smooth under his fingers. He looked over to where Feitan sat. The transmuter was a dark shadow curled under candlelight, already completely absorbed in his new book. Phinks swallowed his grin and walked towards him. 

“Hey, Fei, this is really cool. Where’d you—“

“Yes. What favor?” Feitan interrupted. He didn’t look up from his book. 

Phinks shifted uncomfortably and lit a cigarette, trying to think as he exhaled. “Well, I dunno yet.”

“Hmm. Decide soon. Two bets now, you not choose. Maybe I get bored. Phinks not make up his mind.” 

“Yeah, I get it, jeez,” Phinks muttered. He sat on the ground next to Feitan, watching as his slim fingers trailed across the page. He cleared his throat. “Look, Fei, is there—“

“I read now.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” 

Feitan snorted and turned away, shrugging deeper into his cloak. He couldn’t get his eyes to focus on the words before him. Cigarette smoke drifted across his vision and he sighed, glancing over his shoulder at Phinks. 

“What?”

“I’m just—do you not want me to sit here? I can leave, I guess, I was just kinda—“

“Yes. Go,” Feitan snapped. He swallowed and tried to sound nicer. “Get me beer.” 

“Oh. Okay, sure.” Phinks hopped up, shoving his hands as deep into his pockets as he could. His chest hurt. Shalnark winked at him from across the room and he frowned, desperately wondering what he’d done wrong to make Feitan go back to ignoring him. The ice in the cooler felt like the only proof that he was real. He brought Feitan a beer and placed it by his leg, deciding to leave him alone for a bit longer. The room seemed impossibly large. Phinks ambled towards Machi and Pakunoda, hoping they’d know if something had happened on the ride home. 

“Hey,” he grunted as he plopped in front of them. Both women looked askance at him. 

“Hello,” Machi said slowly. She put her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, frowning slightly. “To what do we owe this honor, Mr. Magcub?”

Phinks blushed and gulped some of his beer. He hated being called by his last name. It was just another reminder that he didn’t know who had given him that name, the only proof of it being a photograph of him as a toddler with a piece of paper stuck to his chest with “Magcub” scrawled across it. One of the matrons had shown it to him once, angrily telling him that whoever had left him had been too lazy to clarify whether that was a first or a last name. She insinuated that if she’d had her way, all the children would just be numbered, that he was lucky someone had started calling him Phinks before she took charge. Phinks scratched his spider tattoo absentmindedly and tried to bring himself back to the present. “Just thought I’d say hey,” he said awkwardly. 

Pakunoda smiled, twirling a piece of Machi’s hair around one of her fingers. “You did a good job finding that book for Feitan.” Her warm voice was a familiar comfort. Phinks couldn’t help returning her smile. 

“Yeah, Shal helped. I mean, I think he might’ve been waiting around for me to ask him, honestly, the guy’s always on top of shit like that.” 

Machi shrugged and took the bottle of wine from her girlfriend, holding it up as she took a swig. She cleared her throat before speaking. “Trouble in paradise, Phinks?”

He went bright red again. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, give me a break. You’re both so goddamn annoying,” Machi sighed. “The pining and the whining and the idiocy, it’s all getting boring.” 

Pakunoda nudged her, wearing a slight frown. “I think what Machi means is that something seems to be bugging Feitan. He asked for her watch shift tonight. Do you know why?”

“What?” Phinks jerked his head up, scowling at the pair. He glanced over at Feitan. “He’s—I don’t know, I was hoping you guys might have an idea. Was he... was he being weird in the car?” He finished his beer, looking up at them pleadingly. The combination of Machi’s annoyed disgust and Pakunoda’s obvious pity made him feel sick. He lit another cigarette. 

“Quiet, I guess,” Machi said. She looked between Feitan and Phinks again, a small frown knitting her brows together. “Maybe he’s just in one of his moods. It’s probably nothing.” 

Phinks chewed his lip and stood up. “He was totally fine when we placed the bet. Maybe I’ll stay up and watch with him, try to ask what’s up. Fuck, I still don’t know what to ask him for. I’m such a goddamn idiot.” He wandered away without waiting for a response, feeling the pair of concerned gazes burning the back of his neck. 

Feitan’s lips quivered around his beer. The book had turned out to be poetry, elaborate psalms and prayers and loving odes to gods and nature and long-dead people. He was unsettled by how strongly he seemed to be reacting. The names of deities stuck out in his mind as though he’d always known them, though he was certain this was the first time he was encountering anything relating to the spiritual traditions of his people. It felt wrong to think of anyone outside this room as his people. He looked around, watching Phinks talk to Machi and Pakunoda, Shalnark laughing with Uvogin, Bonolenov quietly discussing something with Chrollo. In a room full of the only people who could claim to know him he suddenly felt unbearably alone. His eyes watered and he scowled at the page, wiping his face furiously. The beer burned his throat as he drank. Feitan snapped the book shut and crumpled his can, drifting across the room towards Chrollo. He needed to know what the boss had meant when he was talking about Feitan’s heart.

Bonolenov nodded thoughtfully and walked off, heading upstairs. He was always the first to bed. Chrollo turned to Feitan with a kind smile, patting the floor next to him. 

“What’s going on, Feitan?”

“Not sure. Book is...” Feitan looked at the book in his hands, feeling his stomach turn. “Is poems. Very beautiful. And...” 

Chrollo nodded. “And what?”

“Other book good too,” Feitan said quietly. He pulled the bloodstained manuscript from his robe, offering it to Chrollo. The taller man’s eyes widened appreciatively as he paged through it. 

“Did you find this? It’s beautiful, Feitan.” 

Feitan shook his head nervously. “Phinks find.”

“Ah,” Chrollo said softly. He closed the book and passed it back to Feitan, donning a thoughtful expression. “And something bothers you about these books? Or is the problem with Phinks?” 

“No, not...” Feitan sighed in frustration, sinking deeper into his cowl. He suddenly wondered why he was even bothering, especially after what he’d said to Shalnark earlier about relationships within the Spider. He snorted. “Stupid. Forget.” He started to stand but Chrollo touched his wrist, a gentle pressure firm enough to bring him back down. “What?”

“Fei, I think Phinks was quite thoughtful today, don’t you?”

Feitan made a noncommittal noise. He wasn’t sure how to explain what he’d seen in the library that made him think otherwise.

“Have you thanked him?” 

“I give him books also. Is thanks.”

“Hm!” Chrollo leaned back on his hands, frowning slightly. “So what’s going on? You’ve been very quiet since we got in the car. Were you hoping you’d get to do more today? I already told you that we’ll likely need your skills tomorrow.”

Feitan shook his head, staring at the bloodstained book again. Phinks had seemed unreasonably nervous giving it to him. “No... No. In library, I see...” He squirmed uncomfortably, looking around to make sure nobody else was listening. They were all involved in their own conversations. Phinks had been watching him, turning away at the last second as his cheeks went red. Feitan frowned. “Shalnark kiss Phinks,” he said suddenly, “when they find my book.” He held out the one in his language, afraid to make eye contact. 

Chrollo sighed and took a swig of his beer. “Well, that’s weird,” he mumbled, “maybe I don’t pay enough attention to everyone.” He looked over at Phinks, wondering whether he’d somehow misread his devotion to Feitan. It was possible. But it seemed unlikely. “What do you mean, Shal kissed him?”

“On nose,” Feitan explained quietly, “like this.” He took Chrollo’s face in both hands and quickly pecked his nose, earning a burst of laughter from the boss. He heard a loud curse and turned to see Phinks shoving his hand into the cooler. Feitan rolled his eyes, wondering how the big fool could’ve injured himself this time. Chrollo was still chuckling as he turned back to him. 

“Fei, I think Shal was just messing with Phinks. You should talk to him about how you feel.”

“I don’t feel,” Feitan said firmly. Chrollo laughed again. 

“Yes, you do. But I know what you mean. It’s easier... Well, that’s got nothing to do with you. I say talk to him. And do it soon—we should all be getting some sleep, we have an early morning tomorrow.” 

Feitan nodded, still feeling confused. “I switch Machi and watch.”

“Oh. Well, don’t forget to wake Bono up for his shift, then. If I recall correctly, he should be starting around 3.” Chrollo chuckled to himself again and finished his beer, laying back on the dusty floor. “Do you think someone would carry me upstairs? I’m feeling very small tonight.”

Feitan giggled and stood up, offering Chrollo his hand. The younger man pouted before taking it and springing to his feet. He clapped his hands together and donned his coat, disappearing upstairs with Machi and Pakunoda in his wake. After Chrollo had retired, the others started to filter out. Franklin scooped Kortopi up from where he’d fallen asleep and carefully carried him upstairs. They were followed shortly by Uvogin and Nobunaga, who were drunkenly babbling about who’d kicked more ass during some long-ago battle. Feitan looked around. Shalnark was spread out on the floor beside Phinks, both of them quietly discussing the book Feitan had found about Kakin. The transmuter scowled darkly and made his way to the door. He didn’t like how close Shalnark was to Phinks. Even worse was the fact that they didn’t seem to know they were the only ones awake.

Phinks turned away from Shalnark for a second, wondering why it had gotten so quiet. The front door was propped open and everyone was gone. He nudged the other blonde.

“Hey, Shal, we’re the last ones up.”

“What?” Shalnark jumped up, dusting himself off quickly. “Where did—wow, gosh,” he laughed. Phinks thought he heard a twinge of pain in his friend’s voice but decided not to ask about it.

“Fei’s keeping watch, so I’m gonna stay down here. Don’t keep everyone up again, will ya?” Phinks’ grin turned into a pained grunt as Shalnark kicked him in the stomach.

“Deal with your faggy shit, Phinks, and maybe you won’t be so jealous! Goodnight!” 

Phinks rolled his eyes as his friend walked away, carefully closing the book they’d been reading. The only sound was the wind whistling outside. He lit a cigarette and stepped towards the door, feeling the anxiety build in his stomach as he got closer to having to speak to Feitan. Halfway across the room he just stopped. His hand still itched where he’d dropped a cigarette on it earlier, having been shocked to look over and see Feitan planting a kiss on the tip of Chrollo’s nose. His thoughts swam drunkenly. Nothing seemed to make any sense anymore. If Feitan had something going on with the boss, how had none of them noticed? Phinks glanced down at the book he was holding and smacked himself in the face, realizing all at once what had happened. He dropped the book and jogged to the door.

The streets outside the abandoned house were empty except for the dark shadows of derelict buildings crouching along jagged roads. Feitan glanced at the clouds and pulled his umbrella out. It was definitely going to rain. He was perched on the short wall underneath one of the only working streetlights, making his way through the first book Phinks had found. The inscription was dedicated to the artist’s lover, written in a mixture of both of their blood. Feitan felt color rising in his cheeks at the idea of loving someone enough to paint with their blood, or loving them enough to give them so much of your own. Romance had never held much appeal for him but if this floating feeling in his stomach was to be trusted, this seemed to be the height of romantic behavior. He held the pages open and stared at the print he’d noticed in the library. Two reddish-brown figures curled together, nearly indistinguishable apart from the fading lines of ink the artist had used to delineate parts of their bodies. They were nude. One rusty leg overlapped another, two barely noticeable penises flopping beside each other on the inked sheets. Feitan shifted his weight as his body warmed with interest. He turned the pages, gazing down at a self-portrait the artist had produced entirely in his lover’s blood. Another page was fully devoted to the shape of two hands intertwined. His fingers looked even paler than usual as he traced the lines of these hands, wondering what it would be like to know another person’s palms so intimately. A small crash startled him and he jerked around, drawing his blade.

“Fei, it’s just me,” Phinks panted. He’d tripped over a trash can, sending its contents flying into the road. Feitan snorted and sheathed his sword.

“What?”

“Thought you might need some company.”

Feitan frowned and turned away. “No.”

“C’mon, man, what’s going on?” Phinks took another step closer as he pleaded. A small smile appeared and quickly disappeared when he noticed what Feitan had been reading. Now was not the time to gloat. 

“What you mean? I watch, you sleep.” Feitan looked at the sky again, tilting his head just in time to catch the first raindrop directly in his eye. He sputtered angrily and wiped it out, ducking further under his umbrella. “Go sleep, baichi.”

Phinks grinned at the insult. A light drizzle was starting but he didn’t care, he just wanted to figure out what was going on with Feitan. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, I was kinda hoping we could—“

“Phinks, I want quiet.” 

“Yeah, well, I wanna talk to you, asshole.” 

Feitan whipped around, his eyes glowing with rage. “Go in, Phinks. I not asshole here.” 

“Please, Fei, just hear me out—“

“No. Go away.”

“I really need to tell you—“

Phinks was cut off by the small twang of metal whizzing through the air as Feitan pointed his sword at his throat. “Go away, Phinks,” he hissed quietly. The tall man took a deep breath and locked eyes with him. Feitan’s eyes widened as Phinks took hold of the blade and pressed it into his skin, drawing a slow line of blood down to his sternum. Neither of them spoke. Phinks flinched as he let go of the sword, fumbling for a handkerchief in his pocket to wrap around his bleeding hand. Feitan stared at the dark liquid pooling at the tip of his blade. The rain started to come down harder and Phinks let out a deep sigh. 

“Can I at least get under the umbrella?” 

The shallow wound on his throat bobbed enticingly as he spoke. Feitan nodded. Phinks walked up to him and ducked under the umbrella, leaning against the garden wall where the small man was perched. He dabbed at his neck with his bandaged hand. Feitan nodded again, suddenly feeling all the beers he’d had. The air was cold and wet and pierced with the familiar scent of blood, a metallic smell that clung to the back of his throat. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the wound Phinks had made. It was only a few inches away now, close enough that he could touch it just by lifting one of his hands from the handle of his umbrella. The thought of touching his friend’s blood made him feel a bit dizzy. Phinks cleared his throat. 

“I, uh, know what I want now.” 

Feitan tore his eyes away from the blood to look Phinks in the eyes. The blonde blushed and glanced away, running a shaky hand through his hair. He shifted his feet a bit closer to Feitan. The rain was soaking through the ends of his joggers, water dripping down his neck and turning slightly pink as it ran over his cut. Feitan couldn’t remember ever wanting to touch someone so badly. He tried to keep his gaze steady, waiting for Phinks to meet his eyes again. 

“What, then?” Feitan’s voice was so quiet he wondered for a second if he’d spoken at all. He lowered his cowl and repeated himself. 

Phinks was bright red as he dragged his eyes back to Feitan’s face, desperately searching for any hint that what he was about to say wouldn’t destroy their friendship forever. He found a crinkle of anxiety in the corners of the smaller man’s eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Kiss me.”

Feitan blinked. “What?” 

“Damn, Fei, I thought that was pretty clear.” Phinks smiled nervously and leaned a bit closer as his voice dropped to a whisper. “I know this is cheesy as hell, but I was hoping—“

Feitan grabbed his face and kissed him, pulling his head down the remaining inches between their faces so quickly that their teeth crashed together. The neglected umbrella dropped on top of both of their heads and they jumped apart. Phinks doubled over in a sudden burst of laughter. Feitan scowled and ducked under his collar, scrambling to cover himself with his umbrella again. His face felt like it was on fire. Why was Phinks laughing? Was this why he and Shalnark had been whispering so frequently? Had they placed a bet on whether Feitan would actually kiss Phinks? He felt sick to his stomach. His mouth refused to form words.

“Fei, I, ow,” Phinks chuckled, standing back up. He rubbed the back of his head bashfully as the rain soaked through his jacket. His hair was starting to slide out of place. “Well, I still have to ask you for a favor,” he laughed. 

Feitan glared at him. “Fuck off.” 

“Will you let me kiss you?” 

“What?!” Feitan spat the word at his friend, feeling anger burning in his chest. 

Phinks stepped closer again, still grinning like an idiot. “Will you do me a favor and let me kiss you, even though I’m a stupid asshole?” 

Feitan narrowed his eyes. “This joke not funny, Phinks. Go away.”

“It’s not a joke,” Phinks giggled, “I’m just—“

“Go ask Shalnark,” Feitan hissed. 

“What?” Phinks tried to duck under the umbrella but Feitan reared back.

“Stay away.” 

Phinks looked like he’d just been shot. His face crumpled into a baffled frown. “Wait, did you not want—well, now I look like an asshole, huh?”

Feitan snorted and turned away, wishing the enhancer would just go inside already. A roll of thunder crashed overhead and he glanced up. “Just go, Phinks,” he said quietly, “Shalnark hate thunder.” 

“Who gives a fuck what Shal hates? Dammit, Feitan, I only laughed cause you dropped your umbrella on my head!” 

“Please, stop.” 

“No, you stop it! God, Franklin was right, I’m screwing this up so badly, I just—look, forget about the bet, forget about Shal, forget about my dumbass laughing just now, I really—Fei, can you please look at me?” Phinks ducked under the umbrella without waiting for a response, panting slightly in his excitement. Feitan closed his eyes. 

“Phinks—“

And then a warm hand slipped under Feitan’s collar and tilted his head up, tenderly wrapping around the back of his neck. His mouth was still half-open from speaking as Phinks kissed him. Feitan grunted in shock. Phinks parted his lips slightly and pressed a bit closer. Sharp teeth came down on his lip but he just grinned and kissed Feitan more aggressively, returning the bite and earning a soft gasp in response. He pulled back and smiled at his friend.

“I probably should’ve just kissed you last night, huh?” 

Feitan shook his head slowly, still trying to piece together what was happening. “Explain.” 

“Huh?” Phinks ran his hand through his hair again, accidentally flicking a bit of water into Feitan’s face. “Explain what?”

“Why kiss me, Phinks? And why—Shalnark, in library? Why laugh?” Feitan’s hand shook slightly around his umbrella. He clenched his fists tighter. 

Phinks blushed. “I don’t know what Shal’s problem is, but he was threatening me, actually. And I dunno, I’ve, uh... I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages, man, I’m just, I guess I’m just stupid. Yeah.” He shoved his hands into his wet pockets, giving Feitan a nervous grin. “Did... so can I kiss you again, or what? I feel like I fucked it up both times already.”

The small man shook his head again. “Still not funny. Go inside.” 

“Fei, I’m not joking, how can—“

“Just go,” Feitan whispered hoarsely. “Go.” He kicked Phinks in the chest, sending the tall blonde stumbling backwards. Feitan looked away as he heard his body fall into a puddle. He still felt drunk, but not in the same fuzzy way he’d been the night before—this time, the alcohol felt like fire in his blood, pricking the back of his mind with thoughts of his inadequacies and social ineptitude. Phinks cursed and he closed his eyes. He lowered his umbrella, creating a shield between them. His body buzzed with rage. Another shout echoed in his ears and he turned around, angrily letting slip a string of unintelligible curses in his own language. Through the rage and rain clouding his vision he saw Phinks leap up and run inside, finally leaving him alone in the street. He closed his umbrella and let the rain soak through his body until he was too numb to be angry. 


	4. Keep Your Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a disastrous attempt at making a move, Phinks attempts to use his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> f slur is used

Phinks stared at his jagged reflection in the cracked mirror. He’d already thrown up twice, but he could feel his stomach was still trying to jump out of place. Porcelain crunched under his fingers and he glanced down, realizing that he’d crushed part of the sink. A few chunks stuck to the cloth wrapped around his injured hand. He sighed and rinsed them out, trying to breathe normally. Activating Feitan’s power had not been part of the plan at all. He wondered briefly if he should’ve stayed and let the transmuter explode, taken his fair share of pain even if it killed him. His reflection frowned back at him. He’d stripped down to his boxers as soon as he got upstairs, hanging his wet tracksuit across a metal chair outside Franklin’s room. Everyone else was asleep. Phinks tugged at his eyes and made a face, chuckling darkly at the distorted version of himself that met his gaze. He looked like a monster. Fitting. 

Someone knocked on the door and Phinks groaned. He wrapped a towel around his waist and walked over, yanking it open. Shalnark blinked up at him.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Fuck you.”

Phinks slammed the door in his face and turned on the shower. He ignored Shalnark’s knocks and complaints, tilting his head into the boiling stream and letting his face burn red. The water stung the cut on his chest but he couldn’t make himself move. He replayed his conversation with Feitan over and over in his mind, trying to pinpoint the moment he’d ruined it. Feitan had kissed him, hadn’t he? So how could everything have gotten so fucked? Just because he laughed when the umbrella hit him? Phinks huffed and thrust his arm out thoughtlessly, punching an enormous crater into the shower wall. The pipes creaked and Shalnark kicked the door down. Phinks yelped and covered himself with his bleeding hand.

“What are you DOING?!”

“I’M FUCKING SHOWERING, YOU ASSHOLE!”

“Calm DOWN, PHINKS!” 

Shalnark stalked over and slapped him, the loud wet sound echoing off the tiles. Phinks growled and snatched his wrists. 

“Fuck you, Shal, you fucking piece of shit faggot, I’m gonna fucking kill you right—“

“Whoa, language!”

“Now, FUCK YOU!” Phinks spat the words in his friend’s face, seething with rage. Shalnark winced slightly as his wrists popped. He frowned.

“No real fighting, Phinks,” he said quietly. The enhancer grunted but dropped his arms, turning the water off. Shalnark’s frown deepened as he noticed the strange cut on his friend’s neck. “What happened?” 

Phinks scoffed and wrapped a towel around his waist. “Fuck off, Shal.” 

“Phinks.”

He groaned and sat on the floor, holding his face in his bloody hands. The room was spinning. He couldn’t bear having to explain what had happened to Shalnark, not when the manipulator was so likely to laugh at him. Bile rose in his throat again and he swallowed hard. “Nothing. I’m drunk, forget it.” 

Shalnark crossed his arms angrily. “What, Feitan said no so now you’re throwing a tantrum?”

“Fuck you.” 

“You’re impossible. Do you mind? I need to pee.”

Phinks snorted into his palms. “And I was trying to shower.” He stood up slowly, wobbling a bit, and slammed the door behind him. The hallway stretched before him like the throat of an enormous beast waiting to swallow. Phinks slumped to the floor again, reluctant to go back to the room he was supposed to be sharing with Feitan. He wondered if he should ask someone to trade with him. 

Shalnark kicked Phinks in the leg, waking him from his reverie. “Alright, Phinks, tell me what happened.” 

“I’m—I’m fine, Shal.” Phinks staggered to his feet and started down the hall, waving a hand behind him as his friend protested. He collapsed face-first into his bed with a grunt. The door closed and he rolled over. 

“You’re acting like a child, Phinks.”

“It’s your fault, asshole.”

Shalnark laughed, a sharp, irritated sound that made Phinks itch. “How exactly is it my fault? You’re the one who—“

“He saw you kiss me, dumbass.”

“I didn’t—Oh.” Shalnark perched gingerly on the edge of the bed and sighed. “I see.” 

“Yeah, so, fuck off,” Phinks grunted. He rolled over to face the window again, hoping he could just forget this entire evening. He felt like a freak. 

Shalnark sighed heavily and looked at his phone. “Well, do you want my advice?”

“Not really.”

“Then grow up.” Shalnark stood up and yawned. He stared at the back of Phinks’ head for a moment before shrugging and making his way to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, sighing again. “Just... be honest. Duh.” 

Phinks waited for the sound of Shalnark’s door closing before sliding out of bed. He dragged his robe on and cracked the window open, lighting a cigarette as he sat against the wall. He considered getting more beer. He considered going outside to try talking to Feitan again. He turned his head and considered the moon, squinting up at the pale arc barely visible through the storm clouds. Phinks leaned back on his hands and winced. Cold water landed on his chest. It was still pouring outside. Hopefully Feitan could keep the book dry under his umbrella.

Another loud crack of thunder shook the sky and Phinks jumped slightly, suddenly worried about Feitan being so close to a street lamp. He knew better than to communicate his concerns. The transmuter hated any implication that he couldn’t take care of himself, and after their conversation tonight, Phinks doubted Feitan would even let him speak. He sighed and pulled his robe tighter. It was barely 1 A.M, still two hours left in Feitan’s shift. Phinks closed the window and crawled into bed. Maybe he’d wake up and discover this had all been a terrible dream. 

—————————

Feitan stood in the doorway, watching Phinks sleep. He felt terribly small. Bonolenov had relieved him an hour early, appearing behind him as silent as a ghost. He’d thought about staying downstairs, but the main floor was freezing, and his clothes were soaked. Feitan looked at the book in his hands. He’d managed to keep it under his shirt, protecting it from the worst of the rain, but a few new watery streaks were dashed across the bloodstained cover. The damage struck a guilty chord at the base of his spine. He tiptoed across the room and disrobed, placing the book carefully on a dry shelf away from his damp clothes. Rain pounded against the window as he rifled through his things. He sighed and pulled up an enormous white shirt, feeling his stomach turn at the memory of curling up in it the night before. Phinks muttered in his sleep behind him. Feitan glanced over his shoulder, wondering again why his friend had thought kissing him might be funny. Maybe Phinks really didn’t know how Feitan felt. Maybe he did, and that was the joke. Feitan shivered and pulled the shirt on, too tired to waste any more time. 

A floorboard creaked under Feitan and Phinks sat up, slowly opening his eyes. 

“Oh. Hey, I... you’re early.” 

Feitan nodded and sat on the edge of his own bed. He was mortified that he’d been caught wearing his friend’s shirt again. Phinks rubbed his eyes again. 

“Fei, I—“

“Stop.”

Phinks groaned and fell back, spreading his arms wide. “Okay then.”

Feitan shrugged and slid under his covers. He rolled over with a startled hiss as he realized half of the bed had been soaked with rain. 

“Phinks! Bastard!”

“Huh?”

Phinks turned just in time for Feitan’s pillow to smash into his face. He propped himself up on an elbow, squinting in confusion. Feitan stood next to his bed, fists clenched, aura pulsing dangerously. 

“Not enough? Outside, rain, not enough for you? Bed, too? Fuck,” Feitan spat furiously. He hadn’t felt such humiliation since—he shook the memory from his head and tried to focus. “Why?” 

“Fei, I dunno what you’re—“

“MY BED! RAIN!” 

“Oh, shit,” Phinks grunted. He stumbled over and blindly felt Feitan’s bed. “Fuck, dude, I was smoking with the window open, and I just didn’t think—I’m, I’m sorry, Feitan,” he mumbled lamely. 

Feitan glared up at him, wishing Phinks would sit back down. He couldn’t stand feeling so small next to him. Not tonight. He shook his head, unable to find words. 

“I really am sorry, Fei,” Phinks said softly. He looked at the floor and sighed. “You can just have my bed. I’m sorry. And—well, yeah.” 

“Hmmph.” Feitan scowled at him. His legs shivered and he crawled into the bed, scooting as far over as he could. Phinks collapsed to the floor. Feitan averted his eyes and rolled to face the wall, suddenly overcome by exhaustion. Phinks inched closer. 

“Feitan? I wasn’t joking earlier.” 

Phinks rested his chin on the edge of the mattress and waited. Nothing. 

“Really, ask anyone, I’ve—everyone’s been making fun of me about... this. About, uh, my... feelings... for you. And I don’t know why I—I thought that was obvious, I mean, cutting my throat open wasn’t all that enjoyable, but it just seemed appropriate, cause of the book and all. And, um, if--if you’re not too mad tomorrow, I really… want to know about the other one. What it says, I mean. In… well, it’d be nice to know a word or two in your language.”

More silence. Phinks sighed and stretched his arm across the bed to poke Feitan’s shoulder. The pile of black hair shifted towards him. 

“What?” 

“Umm... Am I allowed to get in the bed?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay, sorry.” 

Feitan frowned to himself. He wasn’t used to receiving apologies. Any response seemed to die trapped behind his teeth. A few quiet moments passed as he looked at his friend, wondering whether to believe him. Finally he settled for the only word that made any sense. “Phinks.”

“Yeah, Fei?”

“What happened to other hand?”

“Huh? Oh, I...” Phinks buried his face in the sheets, embarrassed. “Punched the shower.” 

A small snort. “Baichi.” 

The blonde tilted his head up and grinned. “Well, I guess I got scared you weren’t gonna talk to me anymore. And, uh...” His face felt hot. Feitan’s amber eyes peered at him above the blanket. He cleared his throat. “And I got mad cause I didn’t get to kiss you enough,” he whispered. 

Feitan blinked slowly. “Your neck,” he murmured, “because book?”

“It seemed romantic in my head.” 

“Baichi,” Feitan said softly, “keep your blood.”

Phinks laughed sleepily. His eyes were closing again. “I know you’d rather steal it anyways.”

Feitan smiled under the blanket and shifted a bit closer to Phinks, admiring the way his damp hair fell into his face. “Cute.” 

“Hmm?” Phinks opened his eyes just in time to see Feitan lean over and kiss his forehead. He broke into a grin. “Oh? I’m cute?” 

“No,” Feitan teased as he leaned in again. 

Their mouths met halfway, Phinks kneeling up just as Feitan reached for his head. A soft sigh escaped against Feitan’s lips and he smiled. He pulled Phinks closer, giggling slightly as the tall man scrambled up into the bed. They seemed to be falling into each other’s bodies. Lips parted and Feitan smiled again, hardly minding the clunky way their teeth crashed together, too focused on the feeling of his friend’s surprisingly soft lips melting into his own. Phinks made a small noise and wrapped his arm around Feitan, gently bringing their bodies together. Feitan’s thumb brushed lightly against his temple. He shivered and slid a cold leg between the tall man’s warm thighs, hooking his foot around the back of his knee to drag him closer. Hardly a minute passed before Phinks started laughing again. Their lips lost contact as they both dissolved into sleepy giggles, Feitan burying his head in Phinks’ chest as the unusual feeling of joy overwhelmed his senses. Phinks nuzzled into his hair happily. 

“Fei?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.” 

Feitan leaned back, rubbing his eyes in confusion. “Why?” 

“Letting me kiss you,” Phinks mumbled shyly. He pulled Feitan into a tight hug, cradling the back of his head and curling around him as much as he could. The small man squeaked at the sudden crush. Phinks just squeezed tighter. “I’m sorry I was such an idiot, Fei, I just don’t really know how to do any of this, and—“

“Phinks,” Feitan wheezed, “too tight.”

Phinks released him immediately. Feitan smiled and poked his cheek, sinking into the pillow. 

“Sorry,” Phinks mumbled. 

Feitan shrugged. He pulled Phinks closer and kissed him again, slowly, as though he was trying to pronounce a new word. A large hand slid around his side and he leaned into the other man’s warmth. “Phinks,” he murmured into his mouth, “very late.” 

“Mmm. Huh?”

“Should sleep.”

Phinks slid his hand down Feitan’s back and smiled against his lips. “Probably.”

“Hmmm?”

“We don’t,” Phinks whispered into Feitan’s neck, “need to sleep, just yet, do we?” 

Feitan tilted his head back slowly, smiling sleepily as his friend’s mouth traveled to his collarbones. The hand on his back inched lower and he yanked a fistful of blonde hair back. Phinks gasped softly. Feitan smirked, hoping he would remember that in the morning. “Early job,” he teased gently, “and then empty day.” His friend’s eyes widened and he grinned, pulling him into a quick kiss. 

“Well, damn, Fei, how am I supposed to concentrate now?” Phinks chuckled. 

Feitan shrugged and rolled over, pulling a long arm around him. The blonde yawned and hugged him close. “Goodnight, Phinks.”

“Night, Fei.”


	5. Slaughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Troupe heads out for the real mission--eliminating an entire military base for experimenting with their missiles too close to Meteor City. Feitan gets romantic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is almost entirely hardcore violence, gore, and torture.

Bones cracked in his fists and Phinks grinned. He kept running. Another guard blurred into view and he reached out, snapping the man’s neck with a quick flick of his wrist. Death was as easy as turning a doorknob. Neck after neck twisted in his grasp—the idiots weren’t even wearing helmets, for God’s sake—as he sped around the perimeter of the base, eliminating the sentries with rhythmic ease. Gunfire erupted and he dropped to the ground, pausing only to deduce the source. It sounded like Franklin. Uvogin’s laughter echoed in the pre-dawn darkness and Phinks chuckled, shaking his head at the horrified screams of the soldiers whose bullets had just proven useless. A truck nearby exploded and he scrambled away from the hungry flames. Something that had once been a body fell to the ground beside him, oozing dark fluids from the charred meat. Bloodlust coursed through his veins and he sprung towards the barracks, ready for more. 

—————————

Feitan rummaged through the vest of his most recent kill, leaping up as soon as he found the keycard. The second door he tried opened and he tore through the three guards behind it like a knife through paper. Only one managed to cry out before hitting the floor. Feitan smirked down at the bodies, admiring the way their blood was beginning to pool together on the concrete. He peered through the window. Nobunaga and Uvogin were in the center of the yard, laughing like maniacs as they mowed through an onslaught of panicking trainees caught between their superiors and certain death. The first pale rays of sunlight were slinking across the rows of tents and highlighting the arrays of solar panels topping the low buildings. Each soldier that managed to slip past a spider found himself caught in another’s web, cast down to the earth beside his fallen brothers. The bastards didn’t stand a chance. Feitan looked up at the modified lighthouse on the far side of the base, wondering if the commotion had disturbed the general’s rest yet. He hoped so, bitterly recalling the taste of ash in the the air when this particular squadron had “accidentally” bombed one of the few food banks in Meteor City. The pork buns at that one had been exceptional. The council of elders had shrugged the incident off in an effort to avoid all-out war but Phinks had kept ranting about the cowardice of pressing a button from hundreds of miles away until Chrollo shrugged and suggested they just kill the responsible parties. And now here they were, taking care of things, sending their message. Feitan heard the faint buzz of an alarm and raced towards it, grinning to himself as he imagined the terrified faces he would soon sever from quaking bodies. 

—————————

This one was begging for mercy. Phinks rolled his eyes and crouched over him, wrinkling his nose at the sharp scent of the fool pissing himself. He flicked his forehead.

“Aren’t you idiots supposed to be brave? You should be proud to die for your comrades. Stand up and fight me, pissbaby.”

The man whimpered. He looked like he might be the same age as Phinks, approximately twenty, though Phinks himself wasn’t sure exactly how old he was. “Please,” the soldier whispered, “Please, I have a girlfriend, and I never wanted to be here—“

“Oh, shut up,” Phinks barked. He reached out and snapped his neck, relieved by the familiar crunch of bone and tear of muscle. He stood up and kicked the body out of his way. He didn’t have the patience some of his friends did—he could never understand how Feitan managed to enjoy listening to his victims beg for their lives, or how Shalnark could stand to let his toys whine as they performed his bidding. Cowardice just irritated him. Especially from a so-called soldier. The guy’s left eye was a bloody balloon, his jaw twisting into the dirt at an unnatural angle. Phinks sighed. He marveled at the dead man’s assumption that he would give a damn whether he’d wanted to be in the military. Once the uniform was on, who gave a shit what your motives had been? They were no better than Shal’s puppets, just following orders without question. The kid was better off dead. 

Phinks cracked his knuckles and strolled towards a nearby tent, eager for more. It had been too long since they’d gone out on a real spree. He paused and took in his surroundings, trying to decide whether he should even bother sticking to the small fry. They were hardly fighting back. He stood with his hands on his hips and squinted towards the rising sun, wondering what kinds of people might be staying up in that fortified lighthouse, the building Chrollo had pointed out as the rendezvous. Maybe the lieutenants and generals would be braver—at the very least, they might be too proud to beg. Phinks turned away from the tent and started walking. He only made it two steps before whipping around at the sound of boots slapping the dirt behind him, flinging his hand out just in time to catch the assailant’s wrist. He squeezed and grinned at the satisfying crack, chuckling darkly when the man’s limp fingers lost hold of his knife. 

“Good job,” Phinks teased, “you’re the first one to really come at me. I’ve half a mind to let you keep at it!”

The soldier spat in his face. “Fuck you.”

“Well then,” Phinks laughed. He pulled a handkerchief out and wiped his cheeks, thrilled by the opportunity to snuff out such a bright flame. The man was keeping a brave face underneath his mask of anger. Admirable, if completely moronic. Phinks decided to have a little fun. He grabbed his victim’s elbow and twisted hard, ripping the limb in half with a wet squelch. The soldier let out an ear-splitting scream as his arm burst into a fountain of blood. Phinks turned the torn forearm back on its owner with a mocking grin, waving it slowly in front of his face. 

“Need a hand?”

The man just shrieked and fell backwards, scrambling clumsily on his three remaining limbs. Phinks giggled at his own bad joke as he followed his prey. 

“C’mon, you didn’t even scratch me! What happened to all that fire? Aren’t you pissed?” 

“What the fuck are you people?!” 

Phinks shrugged. “Spiders.” He kicked the soldier in the face, crushing his nose and brow. The man’s head slammed into the dirt and Phinks bent down. He cradled his cheeks, grinning at the blood pouring from his fractured nose and bruised eye sockets. Wrists turned and the head spun, an owlish look settling in place as the life was snuffed out. Phinks dropped him and stood up, dusting himself off. He’d gotten blood all over his tracksuit. He sighed. Inevitable, of course, but still a bit annoying, given how long it would be before he could change out of these clothes that would soon be sticking to his skin. An eerie whistling sound pierced his thoughts and he groaned. Bonolenov must’ve found someone to toy with. Phinks shook his head and stalked towards the lighthouse, hoping he’d find someone worth fighting soon.

—————————

Feitan couldn’t help laughing. His latest victim was pressed into a corner, quaking with fear as he struggled to locate his attacker. Thick blood oozed from the twin holes where his eyes had been. This guard had still been asleep, snoring peacefully in front of his array of camera views in a small office at the end of a hallway. Feitan had already eliminated the handful of others throughout this building, striking through them in the split second between their realization that there was an intruder and their body’s reactions. He’d been making good time so far. But time wasn’t important today, and he wanted to have a bit of fun before moving on. He giggled again at the terrified soldier, watching him crane his neck towards the sound. It had been so easy. The poor fool had been sleeping with ear plugs in. Feitan had simply walked up behind him and crushed his eyeballs, pressing his thumbs deep into the sockets and mashing the vitreous humor into jelly as he scraped his nails against the curved surface of his sphenoids. The man woke up screaming and flailing, waving pitiful arms behind his head as Feitan yanked his earplugs out and jumped back. He’d fallen from his chair and crawled blindly to the corner where he cowered now. Feitan was only pausing because he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do next. He was having too much fun handling an unrestrained victim to bother tying him down, so his usual approach wasn’t going to be very feasible. He thought for a second before deciding to ask the soldier’s opinion.

“You want arm or leg?”

“WHAT? WHO SAID THAT? HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE, HELP ME!”

Feitan sighed. “Nobody come. They all dead.”

“No,” the man moaned, “no, please.” 

“Arm or leg next? How you want to die?”

“I don’t wanna die!”

“Too bad. I going to kill you.”

The man whimpered pitifully and fell to the floor, wincing as his ass hit the concrete. Feitan saw his hand find his holster and grinned. He’d been hoping he might have a chance to really fight. 

“Well? Slow or fast?”

“DIE, FREAK,” the guard screamed, firing his pistol blindly. Feitan giggled as he dodged the wild bullets. They ricocheted off the walls and fell to the concrete, filling the room with metallic clangs and the acrid smell of gunpowder. The soldier suddenly turned and aimed properly, using the sound of Feitan’s laughter as his target. He got lucky.

Feitan cursed angrily as a shot grazed his leg. He stumbled, hopping awkwardly on his uninjured limb as the guard barked a satisfied laugh. 

“You’re not laughing, I musta hit you, huh? Still alive, you fucker?” 

“Yes,” Feitan hissed in his ear. The guard shrieked and tried to jump away but he was too slow, falling to the floor with another horrid groan as Feitan’s blade severed his shoulder. Feitan smirked and kicked the arm away. He crouched next to his victim, amused by the intriguing discovery that his face still managed to produce tears without eyes. 

“Please,” the man whined, “why are you doing this to me?”

Feitan giggled. He’d always loved that question. It was so pointless: did his victims really think that knowing why would change anything about their deaths? He reached his hand into the bloody stump, entranced by the warmth of the man’s muscles attempting to clench around his fingers, and scraped his long nails between the tendons and the surface of the scapula. The guard screamed so loudly Feitan winced. He removed his hand, wiping it roughly on his face as he licked his palm. His victim sobbed. “You just unlucky,” Feitan explained, “last one I find, and I want to play.” He stepped over the writhing figure and sat on his remaining elbow, bending it backwards with a sharp crack to bring the greasy palm close to his face. 

“Please,” the guard gasped.

“No,” Feitan giggled. He bit down on a fingernail and tore it out of its bed, shaking his head at the man’s pitiful squeal of pain. He spat the dirty nail onto the floor and grimaced. “He love me,” Feitan muttered, “he love me not.” On the second phrase he ripped out the next nail, dropping it casually next to the bloody remnants of the first. 

The guard squirmed beneath him, craning his neck towards the sound of Feitan’s voice. “What are you doing?” 

Feitan shushed him and continued. He scowled when the thumbnail came out on “love me not,” quickly severing the offending digit with a small knife he kept tucked within his sleeve. He crawled to the man’s legs and tugged his boots off. “Stay still,” he warned.

“Nobody could ever love you,” the guard spat, “you fucking freak, when they find you, they better, FUCK—“ 

His big toe rolled to the floor. Feitan frowned at him. “Nobody find me. Where... Yes. He love me.” He plucked the next toenail out cleanly, humming the words under his breath. The guard screamed for help and Feitan rolled his eyes again. “You very annoying,” he observed. 

“Please just kill me,” the man cried. “Please, I don’t understand—“

Feitan cut through his Achilles’ tendon and was rewarded with an obscene howl, grinning to himself at the way the bleeding leg twitched in his grasp. He heard a soft grunt and glanced up. The guard had passed out. Feitan groaned and crawled back to his head, poking his wet cheeks roughly. 

“Wakey wakey.” 

When that didn’t work, Feitan reached into his shoulder again, snapping the man’s clavicle so that it burst through his skin. The guard screamed himself awake. He tried to roll onto his back but Feitan kicked him in the stomach, leaving him sobbing on his side. 

“Do you love?” Feitan asked, leaning down close enough that he could smell the man’s sour breath. He jabbed a finger in his bloody eye socket and twisted. “Does person love you?”

The guard just wailed incoherently. Feitan scowled. He probably should’ve asked questions earlier if he wanted any answers. He stood up and walked around his victim’s body, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the pathetic sight of his piss mingling with his blood on the floor. The room stank. Feitan had allowed himself to be messier than usual, knowing he had plenty of time to play before rejoining the others. He giggled when his eyes landed on the pile of finger and toenails. “I never finish,” he chided the man, “how I know if he love me?” 

The guard wheezed out a laugh. “Kill me already, you fucking faggot.”

“Okay,” Feitan said brightly. He stabbed his hand into the man’s throat and tore out a chunk of his esophagus, laughing wildly at the gurgling noises as he tried to curse him one last time before succumbing to death. The spider sheathed his sword and limped out of the room, wondering where Phinks had run off to. 

—————————

Phinks was panting, smearing blood from a fresh cut out of his eyes. Two assholes in decked-out uniforms had managed to ambush him halfway to the lighthouse, catching him in the knee and forehead with what seemed to be throwing stars. Rather archaic in his opinion. He glanced down at his legs and scowled. 

“You fuckers ripped my pants.”

One of them laughed. “Is that all you can think about? You’re going to die here, boy.”

“Stop talking and finish him,” the other barked. He raised a gun and Phinks darted towards him, grinning at the shock in his eyes as his hand wrapped around the barrel of the gun and curled it back on itself. The soldier tried to ask a question but Phinks thrust a hand through his chest before he could find the words. He pulled his hand back and shook his head as the body slumped to the ground. 

“Do they even train you guys to fight out here, or do you all just earn those little stars by bending over for your commander?” 

The remaining soldier laughed and assumed a fighter’s stance, beckoning Phinks closer. The spider grinned. 

“Oh, now we’re talkin’.”

Phinks rushed forward and swiped at his neck, surprised at how easily the man dodged his attack. It didn’t matter much. He’d only been feinting—his other hand delivered a gut punch that sent the soldier flying, his body crashing limply into the side of a nearby dumpster. Phinks jogged after him to make sure he’d finished the job. A knife landed in his shoulder and he growled angrily, tackling the bastard as he wrung the life from his throat. His body collapsed into the dirt. Phinks kicked his skull to pieces and yanked the knife out of his arm with a pained grunt, probing his wound with his fingers. It seemed fairly shallow. He flexed his arm and hopped up, gazing around the base. 


	6. Highs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some good old-fashioned post-massacre fucking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is just smut with a little bit of violence and a lot of blood.

Warm sun spread slowly across the carnage, painting the sky as red as the bloodstained earth. Phinks squinted at the lighthouse again. Chrollo had said something about meeting there, but he was struggling to remember why that building was supposed to be important. Might as well head over now. He rolled his injured shoulder experimentally and scowled. Using his hatsu was now out of the question—not that he’d need it. He dug around in his pockets, fumbling with his phone and condoms and packets of lube, and pulled out a small baggie of white powder, pausing with a bloody finger halfway into the stash. Phinks grumbled to himself and looked for a flat surface. He strolled over to the nearest building and quickly snapped the neck of a coward he found there, shoving his lifeless body out of the desk chair. Thin white lines striped the gray metal. Phinks snorted the coke quickly, tilting his head back with a frown as the bitter taste dripped down his throat. The buzz came as soon as he stood up. He whooped loudly and crashed through the window, cackling to himself about the idea of bulletproof glass being weaker than his fists, and sped towards the lighthouse.

Feitan was just deciding whether he’d had enough of torturing this new guard when he heard Phinks’ voice ring out above the carnage. He turned to the open door and yanked the man’s head up by his hair. Phinks burst into the room like a gunshot, hopping on his feet excitedly as his eyes landed on Feitan. 

“FEI!” Phinks yelped, dashing towards him.

Feitan grinned and beheaded the man, sending an arc of blood out just in time for Phinks to leap through it like a sprinkler. Phinks laughed uproariously and scooped Feitan into his arms, kissing him hungrily. Feitan gasped at the taste of blood and cocaine and sweat in his lover’s mouth, tugging him back to get a good look at him. Huge pupils gazed back. 

“Baichi, so early?”

Phinks laughed and hugged him tightly before setting him down and fishing the bag out of his pocket again. “Want some?”

Feitan nodded and snatched the bag from him. He glanced around. Everything looked too bloody or too dirty to use. Phinks poked his shoulder and he turned, stifling a laugh at the sight of his tan arm poking out from a rolled-up sleeve. “What?”

“C’mon, Fei, hurry up,” Phinks insisted. He drummed an impatient leg on the floor and Feitan shook his head, grinning into his cowl. He held Phinks’ elbow still and carefully laid a long line down his forearm. His head reared back as soon as the powder disappeared into his nose, a mischievous smirk splitting his pale face. Phinks’ arm was warm in his hand. He leaned over and dragged his tongue down the faint stripe of coke, looking up when he heard a small grunt. Phinks looked dazed. Feitan giggled as the electric feeling spread through his brain, pricking all of his neurons into overdrive. The sunlight made Phinks look like he wore a halo. Feitan reached for his collar and yanked him down, noticing as if for the first time just how inconveniently tall the blonde was. 

Phinks was ahead of Feitan, already lifting him up to kiss him again. Their mouths met like a car crash—all teeth and laughter and violence as they shoved their lips together, each trying to devour the other as quickly as possible. Thin legs wrapped around a large torso and Phinks chuckled eagerly. Feitan took a fistful of blonde hair and pulled it back, sucking a dark bruise at the base of his lover’s jaw. Phinks groaned and tugged his hips closer. He gasped as he felt the other man’s tongue slide down the scab on his throat. His hands roamed under heavy fabric and shoved upwards, sliding across firm muscle and a surprisingly prominent spine. Feitan took his face in both hands and brought their mouths together again, slipping his tongue into the warm darkness between his lover’s hungry lips. Everything smelled like blood. His head was swimming with urgency, every nerve in his body alight with desire and need and unbearable arousal. He felt Phinks stumble across the floor beneath him and pulled back. 

“Where go?” Feitan gasped. He licked some of the blood from Phinks’ neck, wondering vaguely who it had belonged to. All blood seemed to taste the same so far. 

“Gotta be a shower around here,” Phinks grunted, “so we can clean up.” 

Feitan laughed at this, a high, giddy sound that echoed off the tiled walls. “Why?” 

Phinks blinked in confusion. His eyes felt like they were going to pop out of his skull. “We’re covered in blood, Fei.”

“So?” Feitan whispered in his ear. He bit down on the lobe and tugged, giggling at the desperate sound Phinks made in response. He was just reaching for the zipper on Phinks’ jacket when his cloak was yanked over his head. “Yes,” he breathed, “now.” Phinks growled into his neck and unzipped his own jacket, shrugging it onto the floor. Slim fingers smeared blood across his broad shoulders as they explored his muscles, pausing at the edge of the fresh knife wound. Feitan clicked his tongue. “Baichi,” he sighed, pressing his lips gently to the cut. He lifted his head to kiss Phinks again, slowly wrapping his arms around his neck. 

Their weight shifted slightly and Phinks stumbled, cursing loudly as their bodies crashed to the floor. Feitan just laughed. He pulled Phinks’ once-white shirt over his head and threw it to the side as he climbed onto his lap, dragging him by his hair up into another kiss. Phinks grunted. Feitan twisted his fist to pull his hair harder, grinning widely when he was rewarded with a soft moan against his lips. He tore his own shirt off and reached for the waist of the track pants. Phinks grabbed his wrists, panting as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Fei, the door’s wide open, anyone—“

Feitan kissed him again, far too high on the combination of adrenaline, lust, and coke to give a shit who saw them. Phinks clutched his slim hands in one broad fist and used the other to pull his head away by the hair. Feitan grinned at him. 

“You’re fucking crazy,” Phinks gasped, “you know that?”

“Mmhmm,” Feitan responded. He strained against the blonde’s hands to no avail and dropped back with a pout. “Baichi,” he whined. 

Phinks chuckled and kissed him quickly. “Just let me shut the door, babe, we don’t need Shal interrupting right now.” He scrambled out from under Feitan and slammed the door so hard it ripped off its hinges, creaking to the ground outside with a metallic groan. Feitan burst into hysterical laughter as Phinks stared at it.

“Phinks, forget it,” he cackled, “everybody busy.”

The blonde stuck his head through the doorframe and glanced out at the carnage, trying to pinpoint the locations of other troupe members. The rising sun made it hard to see. He was just so damn paranoid and edgy right now and he couldn’t stand the idea of anyone interrupting what he planned to do with Feitan, cause Jesus, fuck, his dick was hard, and he just didn’t want anything to get in the—

His thoughts, which he hadn’t realized were being spoken aloud, were interrupted by a small hand slipping under the waistband of his pants and tracing the line of his erection through his boxers. Soft lips kissed his back and Phinks turned around, all of his worries fleeing his mind as he tackled Feitan again. The small man laughed into his mouth and he grinned. His hands found Feitan’s hips and tugged them closer, roaming to the front only to find a confusing mess of knotted leather strips. Phinks rolled onto his back and squinted down at Feitan’s pants. 

“How the hell do you put those on?”

Feitan shook his head and pulled a loose end, effortlessly undoing the entire front of his trousers as he slipped free. He giggled maniacally at the hungry look he received. He stood up, wincing slightly as his body remembered the small wound to his right leg. “What do you plan, Phinks?”

“Christ,” Phinks gasped. It had only been two nights since he’d seen Feitan undressed in the moonlight but this was entirely different, now that his slim body was streaked with blood and illuminated by the golden rays of the sun hanging three-quarters of the way above the horizon. Not to mention the expectant look on his face. Or the visible bulge in his dark briefs. Phinks couldn’t stop staring, his eyes racing up and down Feitan’s arms, across the scars on his torso, between his thighs along the black lines of his spider tattoo. Feitan giggled again and Phinks jerked his head up. His mind felt like it was going to explode. He shook his head vaguely as he searched for the words, settling for crawling across the slippery floor to kiss Feitan’s knees, trail his lips slowly up his pale thighs, and gently, carefully, run his tongue along the number 2 at the center of his spider. Feitan sighed happily and Phinks grinned. “I’ve got some ideas,” he mumbled, “but what do you want, Fei?” 

“You,” Feitan said simply. 

He pulled Phinks to his knees and kissed him, nearly losing his breath when those strong arms wrapped around him again. Phinks pushed to his feet, cupping his hands under Feitan’s ass and lifting him into the air as he staggered back to his full height. He pulled Feitan’s legs around him, smiling into the soft noise he barely caught between his lips. Sharp teeth came down on his lip and he groaned. 

“Fei—“

“Fuck me,” Feitan hissed into his mouth. He ground his hips forward and Phinks groaned again, the sound climbing higher as Feitan’s teeth came down on his neck. “Fuck me,” he murmured again, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me  _ now _ , baichi.” 

“I’m try—“

Feitan pushed the blonde’s hands away and slid down his body, yanking his pants down as he went. Phinks tripped backwards. Feitan threw his shoes and pants across the floor and jumped on top of him, taking his face in both hands with a wild grin. He paused to admire the view. Enormous black pupils gazed up at him, one topped with a congealing wound, set deep in a chiseled bronze face that had fallen open with excitement. An arc of blonde hair carved a small space in the blood pooling on the concrete floor. Feitan grinned. He bent down and kissed Phinks, grinding his hips against the erection still trapped in his boxers. Phinks moaned and reached for him but Feitan was already moving again, crawling backwards down his legs and tugging his boxers with him. His eyes widened and Phinks sat up, feeling dizzy. 

“Fei—oh, shit.” Phinks nearly swallowed his tongue as he watched Feitan take hold of him. Two small hands wrapped themselves carefully along his shaft as though he was being measured, each thin finger traipsing its way up his length until one slowly traced the circumference of his tip. Feitan hummed thoughtfully and gave him an experimental squeeze. Phinks opened his mouth but nothing came out. A pair of amber-ringed blown-out pupils looked up at him, brimming with the most dangerous glee he’d ever seen. Feitan stroked his cock slowly, just once, then a second time, smirking at the small twitch he caught in the big thigh next to him. He traced a finger over the thin black lines of spider legs just to watch the muscles tighten beneath the ink. Phinks grunted and reached for him. “Fei, get back here, I—oh—need to touch you,  _ please _ ,” he managed to gasp. 

“I busy,” Feitan teased. He squeaked as a strong hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him up, giggling his way into the rough kiss. Phinks rolled and pinned him to the floor. The small man kept giggling as his briefs were torn from his body and his legs yanked around the other’s hips, running his hands over taut pectorals and playfully pinching a hard nipple. He opened his mouth to tease Phinks again but two thick fingers were shoved in and his eyes widened in shock, sucking them dutifully as the blonde smirked down at him. They tasted like blood and dirt and everything he’d ever wanted. A thought occurred to him and he bit down, fairly gently, but the hand was ripped away and his own were suddenly pinned above his head. 

“You little fucker,” Phinks growled. 

Feitan giggled and tried to kiss him but the blonde pulled away, still holding his wrists against the concrete. He squirmed uncomfortably as he remembered how much stronger Phinks was. The blonde stroked his own cock thoughtfully, enjoying this rare moment of seeing Feitan recognizing his strength. He followed Feitan’s hungry gaze to his hand and grinned. 

“Want something, Fei?”

“Baichi,” Feitan whined, bucking his hips, “want you, want now.” 

Phinks chuckled. He hooked his fingers into Feitan’s mouth again, holding it open as wide as it would go. Feitan scowled up at him and writhed his hips again. “I suggest you get my fingers ready properly this time, then,” he teased, letting go of Feitan’s jaw to slide his fingers between his lips. The smaller man rolled his eyes but sucked anyways, blinking his long eyelashes up at Phinks as he did. The blonde groaned softly and ground his hard cock against Feitan’s legs. He knew damn well he’d never be able to tease the little interrogator for long, but he was trying to hold out as long as he could, just to see if Feitan’s demands would turn into begging.

Feitan whined around Phinks’ hand and the blonde grinned at him, pulling his sloppy fingers out of his mouth to kiss him. Their mouths were messy and wet and greedy, each man straining against the other’s lips in some desperate competition to see who could kiss harder. Feitan’s eyes flew open as he felt a wet fingertip probe between his legs. Phinks chuckled into the kiss and then bit his lip, tugging it down hard as he pressed teasingly around the entrance of Feitan’s hole. The smaller man kicked his leg impatiently and he laughed so hard he fell into his shoulder, accidentally releasing his slim wrists. Feitan grabbed a fistful of blond hair and yanked it back. He smirked at the high-pitched grunt his lover made. 

“Phinks,” Feitan hissed, “I in charge.” 

“Oh?” Phinks gasped. He shoved the tip of his finger into Feitan’s ass, just up to the first knuckle, grinning wildly at the tiny squeal he got in response. The grip in his hair loosened as he pressed deeper, carefully slipping his thick knuckles through the tight sphincter as Feitan let out a low moan. “God, Fei, do you even know how hot you are?” Phinks panted. He pulled his hand back slowly and then pushed in again, marveling at the lazy smile drifting across Feitan’s lips. “I’ve wanted to do this, forever,” he continued, maintaining his pace, “just touch you, kiss you,” he leaned over to press their lips together, “fuck you, god, I’m so hard, can I go faster?” Feitan nodded enthusiastically and tugged him into another kiss, gasping against his lips as Phinks sped up his hand. His slender cock twitched and he canted his hips down against the building pressure. Lips came down on his neck as the finger inside of him curled slightly and he moaned, grasping blindly at the stiff blonde hair tucked underneath his chin. 

Before Feitan knew what was happening he was being lifted up again, the rough concrete against his back giving way to thin air as Phinks took to his feet. His giggle was interrupted by the consistency of the thrusting inside him. He reached behind himself and spread his cheeks wider, hoping that Phinks would get the hint as he did whatever it was he was trying to do by standing up again. Feitan fell forward onto his lover’s head with a breathy moan as a second finger shoved inside him. His legs were flung over Phinks’ shoulders and he opened his eyes, trying to process his new height while his body screamed for more. 

“Phinks, what— _ oh _ !” 

The question died in his throat as Phinks took him in his mouth, using the leverage of his fingers in his ass to shove Feitan’s cock between his lips. He just hoped he wouldn’t choke. Feitan’s eyes fluttered and Phinks moved his hand further, bringing his cock a few inches deeper into his open mouth. Small hands clutched his hair as Feitan bucked forwards. 

“Baichi,” Feitan gasped, “put me down,  _ oh _ , oh—“

“Mm-mm,” Phinks hummed around his dick. Feitan moaned at the vibration, unconsciously thrusting into his throat. Phinks closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. Feitan was unbelievably light, so small that it barely felt like he was lifting anything, but the muscles clenching around his fingers and thighs wrapped around his neck were making it difficult to keep his head moving. His own cock bobbed at attention in the cool morning air, eagerly waiting to be put to use. The hands in his hair tightened again and Phinks rotated his head slightly, trying to increase his pace. 

“Phiiinks,” Feitan whined, “too—ah, baichi!” The fingers inside him curled against his prostate and he arched his back, digging his nails in deep enough to send a streak of blood rolling through the blonde hair. Phinks grunted in pain and reared back with an awkward cough. 

“Fei, your nails—“

“Put me  _ down _ ,” Feitan hissed. He wrapped his entire body around the blonde’s head and grabbed his thick wrist, wrenching it out of himself with an angry gasp. Phinks reached for him blindly but he was still moving, scuttling over his shoulders and tumbling to the floor with a small yelp. He kicked out, hard, and caught the tall man’s calf, bringing him down to the bloodstained concrete with him. Feitan growled and reached for his cloak. “Baichi,” he snarled, “don’t dare—AH!”

Phinks laughed as he pinned Feitan’s knees to the floor. He curled around his small body and ground against his ass, leaning down to suck on his neck. Feitan made a small noise and Phinks laughed again as he reached for his pants, hoping he hadn’t lost the lube. “What was that, Fei? You were saying something?” 

A sharp elbow connected with his stomach and Phinks coughed, giving Feitan just enough space to snatch a knife from his cloak. He turned and pressed it to his lover’s jaw. “Phinks,” he growled softly, “I in charge.” He smiled at the shock in those wide eyes and used the edge of the blade to pull Phinks closer, leaning over to kiss him deeply. Phinks sighed happily into his lips and Feitan felt his cheeks warm. An ear-splitting scream rang outside and he giggled, suddenly remembering where they were. 

“Baichi, fuck me,” Feitan whispered. “Hurry.” 

Phinks glanced towards the open doorway and grinned. “Oh, right. Gimme your leg—umm, Fei?”

“Yes?” Feitan lifted a slim leg and hooked it around the back of Phinks’ knee. 

“You gonna move the knife?”

“No.” 

“Oh,” Phinks gasped. His cock twitched and he felt his face go red at the realization that he’d been hoping for that answer. His hands landed on a small packet of lube that had escaped from his pockets and he grinned, kissing Feitan fiercely as he slicked his fingers before pressing them into him again. 

Feitan twitched against him and whined softly. His cock was already leaking, a few shimmering droplets breaking loose to swirl into the drying puddle of blood next to him. Long fingers stroked his balls as the others pushed deeper. He could feel the heat of his lover’s cock grinding against his thighs and he arched his back, pressing the knife down harder. Phinks moaned softly. Feitan twisted his head to kiss him, barely able to find his lips through the cloud of want that fogged his vision. “Phinks, please,” he begged suddenly, “want you, please,  _ please _ baichi.” 

“Fuck,” Phinks groaned. He rolled away to find lube again, his knees buckling under him as he stroked it down his untouched cock. Feitan crawled after him and kissed his shoulders, reaching his arm around to hold the knife against his throat again. Phinks spun around fast enough to cut himself on the blade, emitting a brief pained grunt as he grabbed Feitan and flung him roughly atop the nearest table. The knife clattered to the floor. Neither of them cared. 

Phinks tugged Feitan’s legs apart and pushed inside, groaning at the tight warmth enveloping him. A voice at the back of his mind told him he needed to go slowly but it was drowned out by the coke buzzing in his skull and the blood trickling down his throat and the desperate whine Feitan made as he shoved deeper. He pulled back slightly and thrust in again, exhaling a low curse as Feitan arched his back off the table. Phinks dropped to one hand and tugged Feitan’s ass closer. The small spider grabbed vaguely at the back of his head, gasping for breath as Phinks buried another inch inside of him. He dug an insistent heel into the blonde’s ass.

“Hard,” Feitan hissed, “more, Phinks!” 

“Jesus, fuck,” Phinks panted, “can’t a guy enjoy himself?” He yelped as Feitan slapped him, his claws dragging a thin line of blood across one of his cheeks. “My god, Fei, it’s like trying to fuck a wild animal,” he laughed. He pulled back and flipped Feitan over, twisting his arms behind his back as he rammed into him again. Feitan keened and arched his back. Phinks chuckled and pushed into him slowly, spreading him with his free hand to appreciate the view. Pale skin looked even paler under his tan hands and the dried splashes of blood. Feitan writhed underneath him as he plunged all the way in, holding the small man still as their hips met. He felt like a god. He bent down to kiss Feitan’s neck, rocking his hips just enough to make the smaller man moan. 

“Baichi, so slow,” Feitan complained. He tried moving his arms again but Phinks was far too strong, holding both of his wrists in place with just a few fingers. 

“Mmm,” Phinks responded. He nipped Feitan’s ear and trailed kisses down his neck, nuzzling the soft warm skin hidden under his black hair. He couldn’t believe how good he smelled, like he was sticking his face in a cloud of incense smoke in the middle of the gore-filled room. Feitan wiggled his hips again. Phinks chuckled and kept kissing his neck, his shoulders, the top of his spiky black hair. He suddenly pulled all the way back and slammed in, laughing at the sharp yip Feitan let out. 

“Phinks!”

“Kiss me, Fei.”

“Ugh.” Feitan tried to hide his smile as he twisted his neck around to comply, but Phinks could feel it curving against his lips. He grinned and kissed harder. Small teeth bit down hard enough to fill his mouth with blood and he yelped in pain as he reared back, crashing to the floor on his own. 

“Hey!”

Feitan just spat the mouthful of blood in his face and pressed his small foot against the blonde’s cock, teasingly pushing it around. “Baichi,” he chided, “you must not want to fuck me.”

Phinks gulped and sat up. “No, no, I definitely want to fuck you, Fei, I’m just—“

“Then fuck, stupid,” Feitan snapped. 

He took a handful of blonde hair and pulled Phinks up, using his free hand to guide his cock back into his ass. His eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Phinks wrapped around him like a seashell, sucking a dark bruise onto his neck as he thrust inside. A high-pitched laugh in the shape of the word “yes” collided into his mouth as he bottomed out. Phinks grinned. He stood back and grabbed Feitan’s hips, using the purchase to fuck into him as hard as he could. He noticed his back arch at a certain angle and bit down on his bleeding lip as he carefully positioned their bodies to hit the right spot. Feitan moaned happily and reached for his face. 

“I, yes, there,” he gasped.

“I know, baby,” Phinks grunted. He pulled him into a kiss as he fucked him, still leaning their bodies against the edge of the table for stability. When he opened his eyes he noticed he was staring at an eyeless head on the floor so he buried his face in Feitan’s neck, trying to erase the image. 

Feitan whimpered softly as the blonde’s huge hands pressed a bruise into his hips, though he hardly noticed the pain. Everything smelled like blood and sweat and  _ Phinks _ , in fact, everything  _ was _ Phinks, just the massive frame of his muscular chest blocking out half of the sunrise as it came through the doorway. He rocked his hips into each thrust with a quiet gasp. His own cock ground into his lover’s stomach, twitching and leaking desperately against those hard abs as he was fucked. He opened his eyes again and still all he could see was Phinks, his golden face streaked with blood and sweat and grime, fixed in a boyish grin topped with a brow knit in concentration. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the corpses he’d killed and laughed, the sound turning into a high moan as Phinks’ cock pounded into his prostate again. The hazy question of whether he could cum just from being fucked crossed his mind and disappeared as he was thrown back onto the table. 

“Fuck,” Phinks gasped, “you’re so fucking hot, Fei, oh my god.” He could barely believe his senses. The small man rolled his head towards him and giggled vaguely, his eyes lidded with pleasure as his back arched up again. He swung a thin leg over his shoulder and adjusted his speed, plunging in slowly just to watch Feitan’s eyes roll back. “Christ,” Phinks groaned. He wrapped a hand around Feitan’s cock and stroked it, cursing under his breath as the smaller man’s body clenched around him in excitement. A small hand grabbed his and he paused, rocking his hips slowly. 

“What?”

Feitan shook his head with a small smile. “Just fuck me,” he sighed, “want to see what happens.” 

“You serious?” Phinks pressed his hand against Feitan’s spider, plunging into him again. 

“Yes, yes,” Feitan moaned, and Phinks chuckled as he complied. He could feel the fire building in his stomach so he went faster, still managing to earn a breathy yelp with each thrust. Feitan suddenly arched up with a loud cry and he drilled up into him as best he could. The small body trembled in his arms, long nails digging into his injured arm as he tried to focus on maintaining his pace. Feitan shuddered and fell back.

Phinks froze, panting heavily as he tried to bring himself back from the edge. “Fei? You good?”

“Mmmm,” Feitan whined. He canted his hips down again. “No stop, baichi.” 

“What just happened?”

“Phinks,” Feitan hissed softly, “shut up.” 

Phinks shook his head in confusion. “I... okay. Uh, do you still not want me to—“

“Just shut up,” Feitan moaned, “do, ugh.” He waved his hand vaguely. His chest was shining with sweat, black hair slicked down around his delicate features. “Please.” 

“Fei, I don’t know—“

“Please, baichi, more,” Feitan whined. 

“Fuck, I love you,” Phinks gasped. 

Feitan’s eyes flew open momentarily but Phinks was fucking him again, no longer focused on anything other than his own orgasm. He was growling now, thrusting into Feitan with everything he had, towering over him with one arm planted firmly beside his head. Feitan grinned up at him lazily. He also couldn’t explain what had just happened, but it certainly felt like his entire body had somehow orgasmed without letting his cock know. His head rolled to stare at Phinks’ thick wrist. The sun was over the horizon now, nearly blinding him as he squinted at the door. He could see figures shuffling towards them and laughed, reaching up to drag Phinks into a rough kiss. His mouth still tasted like metal from when Feitan had bitten him. Phinks grunted something into his teeth and Feitan tried to ask what it was but then a hand wrapped around his cock and tugged and he was sure his whole body was bursting into flames, he could hear a high-pitched mewling piercing the low groans in his ear, and just as he realized the sound was from his own mouth he was coming, his legs twitching aimlessly as hot cum splattered across his stomach. His eyes rolled back in his head as he felt Phinks slow down. 

“God, I fucking love you, Feitan,” Phinks groaned. His hips jerked forward on their own in three quick hops as he came, collapsing on top of the smaller man with an exhausted sigh. He kissed Feitan slowly as he pulled out, cradling his sweaty head in one hand and grinning uncontrollably into his mouth. His injured knee suddenly gave out and he slipped to the floor with a thud. 

“Phinks?” Feitan mumbled. He was struggling to remember how to make himself sit up. He stared at the doorway, cupping the morning sun in his palm. A small smile stuck to his face as he let his eyes close again. 

Phinks grunted and rubbed his knee before dragging himself to his feet. “I’m good, just forgot some asshole got my knee,” he grumbled. He looked down at Feitan and grinned. The small spider was splayed out on the table, black hair flying in every direction above the most blissful expression he’d ever seen his friend wear. The strangest lump of emotion formed in his throat and he swallowed it. Feitan slowly rolled his head to face Phinks without opening his eyes, just tilting the vague smile in the direction of his voice. His pale skin was marbled with dried blood and drying cum, all of it streaked through with a mixture of their sweat. Phinks leaned over and gently kissed his forehead. 

“We definitely need a shower now,” he murmured. 

Feitan laughed and opened his eyes just enough to see the blonde’s bloody face inches from his own before pulling him into another kiss. He had no intention of moving ever again. He tried to say so between their mouths but Phinks was already scooping him into his arms, already lifting him out of his little fantasy. He tucked his face into his shoulder with a small sigh. 

“Something wrong?”

“No, just lazy,” Feitan mumbled. He giggled at the frustrated grunt he got in response. A soft breeze blew through the open door and he shivered, pressing closer to the warm body enveloping him. “Baichi, too much air.” 

Phinks rolled his eyes and gently lowered Feitan to the floor, leaving him to sprawl across it as he gathered their clothes. The chatter of gunfire abruptly stopped. He whipped around, holding the pile of clothing in front of himself as he squinted into the sun, emitting a panicked yelp when he noticed a few familiar silhouettes closing the distance. 

“FEI! Fei, we gotta go, NOW!” 

Feitan rubbed his eyes and sat up with an indignant groan. “Wh—“

Phinks couldn’t wait for him to figure it out. He just snatched him off the floor and ran, ignoring Feitan’s wild cackles and vague protests as he tried to find somewhere they could clean up. He burst into a locker room and dropped the smaller man, locking the door behind them. Someone shouted something and Phinks snarled as he raced through the room, locating a cowering soldier in a far shower stall. He snapped his neck before he could start begging. 

“Baichi, why running?” Feitan drifted up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. He glanced around Phinks at the body on the floor and yawned. “And why shower?”

“Jesus, Fei, because we’re—well, you’re covered in, ah, cum, and we’re both covered in blood, and more importantly, I just saw half the Troupe making their way up here, and I just think that there are some things that everyone else doesn’t need to see!”

Feitan shrugged and turned the shower on. Phinks stared at him, wondering what the hell went on in his devious little mind. The high from the coke was starting to fade. He pinched the bridge of his nose and stepped into the water, wincing as it ran over his wounds. Feitan hummed quietly and stretched his arms into the stream, a graceful, cat-like motion that would’ve seemed delicate if not for the blood and viscera raining down as he rinsed himself. Phinks sighed and sank to the floor. He just wanted to watch Feitan move, soak in every tiny flex of muscle and turn of joint, absorb every detail of his body before it was cloaked in black again. Feitan looked down at him quizzically. 

“Okay?”

“Just lookin’ at ya,” Phinks admitted shyly. His face felt red. 

Feitan blushed and leaned over to kiss him, wondering what he could possibly mean by that. An earlier thought clicked into place and he pulled back with a small frown. 

“What?”

“You...” Feitan shivered and turned the water off. He shook himself dry like a dog and grabbed his clothes, pulling them on as quickly as he could. His body trembled. He couldn’t tell if he was actually cold or just, inexplicably, afraid, overcome by a sudden wave of nauseating fear that threatened to send him running. 

Phinks watched him nervously. He felt like an idiot, wondering why he’d said he just wanted to look at Feitan, wondering even more why on earth he’d said he  _ loved _ Feitan, never mind how true it might be. He should’ve known better. Maybe this was just going to be casual, just something they did in the heat of the moment because the other one happened to be there. He tried to make himself feel okay with that. Anticipatory misery settled in his stomach like a rattlesnake waiting to strike. “Feitan?”

“Just... cold,” Feitan murmured. He pulled his cowl around his face and turned around, satisfied by his concealment. He felt guilty as soon as he did. Phinks was still naked, still sitting on the shower floor with water dripping down his mussed blonde locks. Feitan shoved his hands in his pockets in an attempt to stop fidgeting. 

“Did I...” Phinks cleared his throat. He felt as though his body had shrunk down to the size of an ant. “Did I do something wrong, Fei?” 

The small spider shook his head slowly, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. Shalnark’s laughter echoed in the hall. There wasn’t time to find better words. He sighed and tugged his cloak away from his face. “You love me?”

Phinks went bright red as he hid his face in his hands. “I... think so,” he mumbled, “I mean, yeah, if that’s, um, a problem though, I can—“

Cold fingers gently pried his free and lifted his chin, cradling his sweaty face a few inches from Feitan’s nervous smile. “Love very dangerous,” he whispered. Phinks nodded dumbly. “Love might be bad idea,” Feitan continued softly, “might be distraction, or get us killed.” 

The blonde chuckled. “Wouldn’t be the first dangerous thing we’ve done together, though.”

Feitan grinned and kissed him, as slowly as he dared, wanting to see if he could taste the difference in his smile now that he’d heard him admit his feelings properly. “I think I love you, too,” Feitan whispered shyly. He squeaked as Phinks crushed him in a bear hug, tackling him to the floor with an excited sob and an outburst of kisses peppered across his head. He tried to scowl but it didn’t work, he was already laughing. He was still laughing when Uvogin kicked the door in, still laughing as Phinks scrambled to get dressed while Shalnark mocked them loudly, still laughing as the others filed past them on the way to find Chrollo. Feitan only stopped laughing when he ran out of breath, grinning up at a dizzy-looking Phinks from the locker room floor with the crazy idea in his mind that he could touch him whenever he felt like it. 

Phinks practically had to drag Feitan down the hall after the rest of the Troupe, grumbling the whole way about whatever it was that Shalnark and Uvogin and Nobunaga had said while Feitan was still in hysterics. Feitan suddenly dug his heels in and yanked Phinks’ arm hard enough to stop him. 

“What now?”

“New bet,” Feitan snickered.

Phinks grinned. “Alright, what is it?”

“After job, race. Winner fucks loser.” 

“I—wait, I—“ Phinks stammered, turning pink. Feitan winked at him and tugged his cowl up, returning to the emotionless facade he showed the world. “Alright, Fei, but I’m gonna win!”

“We’ll see!” Feitan chirped over his shoulder.


End file.
